I've always been very fascinated by architecture (especially historical), and when I was imagining Erik's house I kind of went down an internet rabbit hole of architectural features, so I decided to include some in here since architecture is one of Erik's many talents.
Thank you again to my readers :)
Chapter 7: Lessons in Architecture
[featuring "Erik Flexes his House, Part 2"]
~ Winter, 1908 ~
After months of bedrest in the solitary confines of the Louis-Philippe room, Christine was impatient to venture downstairs. Erik had promised her a tour of his splendid manor, and she was dying to take him up on the offer.
"Good morning, Christine," said Erik, offering his arm to her. "Are you ready to begin?"
"Yes, I am!" she replied cheerfully as she linked her arm in his. "You know, I was wondering. Why did you choose the name Mazandaran for your estate?"
"It's named after the region of Persia I lived in for a time," explained Erik.
"Persia!" Christine marveled. "You enjoyed your time there, I would assume?"
"Not exactly…" Erik faltered. "I lived in the shah's palace there, so the name seemed fitting in an odd sort of way."
"I see." Christine wanted to press for more details; after all, it wasn't everyday she met someone who lived in a Persian shah's palace, but the pained look on Erik's face told Christine to bite her tongue. They remained silent as they tread through a maze of hallways leading to the grand foyer.
"Where would you like to go first?" Erik asked. He spun around to point out the several directions they could explore.
"Hmm...I'm not sure," said Christine as she weighed her options. "I believe I noticed a courtyard out of one of my windows a while ago. Could you show me that?"
"Your wish is my command!" Erik replied. Christine expected the trip to the courtyard to be quick. The gardens would be dead in the chill of winter, and the blistering winds would make the outdoors unbearable, but it was not the wind that blew Christine away when she stepped onto the peristyle surrounding the courtyard. Instead of freezing winter air, the temperature rose. The courtyard was teeming with lush vegetation. The gurgling of a fountain echoed against the stone walls. Christine half expected to see birds of paradise strutting across the tiled floor, but the only specimen of fauna was Ayesha resting on a bench.
"How…" stammered Christine. How was the garden so verdant in the dead of winter? How was the fountain not frozen solid? Erik tapped her arm and pointed to the glass ceiling three storeys above.
"This is not a courtyard but an atrium," Erik corrected her. Christine nodded, mesmerized by the sunlight streaming through the glass ceiling.
"I take it you know a great deal about architecture then," she suggested with a coy smile.
"I like to think I do."
"Well then, you will have to give me a lesson. I don't know a thing!"
"Gladly!" Erik was always eager to share his knowledge, but he lacked people to share it with. The Girys had gotten bored with his outpouring of useless facts over the last ten years, and Ayesha rolled her cat eyes every time Erik shoved a diagram from one of his books into her whiskers.
Erik and Christine returned to the foyer, and she chose to go through the set of wooden french doors which lead into the main dining room. Christine had already seen the room on Christmas Eve, but she took extra time to admire the elegant furniture and artwork on the walls.
"What's through this door?" Christine asked.
"A breakfast room," Erik replied. "Although it's where we've been eating most of our meals as of late. Much more intimate in my opinion."
Christine agreed. The cosy room was cheerful with the yellow wallpaper and morning sunlight pouring through the gauzy curtains. Erik pointed out the door to the kitchens, but led Christine through another room off the dining room: a ball room. Christine gasped at the vaulted ceilings and the endless expanse of marble tile. She giggled as she twirled across the dance floor.
"It's beautiful! Do you have balls often?" Christine asked, breathless from her dancing.
"No, unfortunately I've yet to host a party here," Erik admitted. "Perhaps soon. I intend to spend more time here than I have in the past."
"What's through here?" Christine asked excitedly, ignoring Erik's explanations.
"One of my favorite rooms," Erik said as they walked into a long hallway of glass. One side gave a view of the central atrium, while the other side led onto a terrace overlooking the outdoor gardens.
"My bedroom is above here, is it not?" Christine asked as sat on a sofa to admire the scenery on either side of her.
"That is correct," Erik said as he sat beside her. He had made sure Christine received the best views in the house. Erik could've contented himself with sitting silently beside Christine for all eternity, but she was eager to explore the rest of the opulent house. The two storey library was at the other end of the glass hallway. The room was home to hundreds, maybe thousands, of books, and it was the frequent haunt of Gustave. The boy was curled up in a window seat with Ayesha and a stack of books. When his parents entered the room, the boy lifted his hand from Ayesha's chin to wave, but cat mewed for her young master to return to his absent-minded stroking. The sight warmed Christine's heart; her son looked so at home in his father's house.
"My study's through that door," Erik pointed out, "but we can skip it for now."
"Hmm?" Christine said, tearing her loving gaze from Gustave. "Oh…alright. Where to next?"
Erik led Christine into the music room and showed off his talent at the magnificent grand piano. Christine closed her eyes as Erik played a short movement from a sonata he was composing. She could listen to his music for hours on end and never grow bored.
The next room was the parlour Christine had seen on Christmas, but the decorations had unfortunately been removed.
"I find the solarium is a wonderful place to enjoy the afternoon sun," Erik said as they peered into the hexagonal room entirely panelled with glass windows. Madame Giry sat on a sofa focusing intently on needlework. She offered a polite greeting. Meg sat beside her mother, staring out the window. Upon Erik and Christine's intrusion, she lifted her head from her elbow and glared at the pair. Erik pretended not to notice, but Christine glared right back. She turned her nose in the air and dragged Erik back to the parlour.
The pair found themselves in the grand foyer once more, for Erik had designed his house around the center atrium, the heart of the home. He led Christine to the bifurcated staircase to explore the upper levels of the house.
"Gustave was very excited to see that room," said Erik when they crossed the hallway overlooking the two storey library.
"Yes, I'm sure he was!" Christine giggled. "What do you call this thing? It's like an indoor balcony!"
"A mezzanine," Erik replied. He continued his architectural lesson as he pointed out other features of the library down below. He took Christine across the corridor to view the atrium from the upper level.
"Is this a mezzanine too?" Christine asked when they stepped onto the balcony around the perimeter of the atrium. "Because it's like a balcony, but technically the atrium is inside!"
"Hmm...Maybe, but I think you could also consider this a loggia," Erik replied, smiling at Christine's earnest attempt to be a good architectural student.
"Ugh! Why do they have so many names for the exact same thing!"
"But they're not the same!" Erik protested.
"Similar enough…" she muttered. Erik laughed at her frustrations.
"All that's left in this wing is the Girys' bedrooms,'' Erik explained. "I suppose I shouldn't show them to you without permission; they might keep them messy!"
"Ah, I understand," replied Christine. "Could I see the other wing then?"
"Hmm...there's no point in seeing there either. It's just Gustave's bedroom and my own."
"Surely I can see my own son's bedroom, I need to make sure he doesn't keep it messy, you know," Christine teased
"I suppose, but should I warn him to give him a chance to clean?"
"No!" Christine replied. Erik laughed again as led her to the opposite wing of the house. Thankfully, Gustave's bedroom was neat and orderly just as Christine expected she did not have to lecture her son on untidiness.
"Is this your room?" Christine asked when they walked by Erik's door.
"Yes...but you cannot see it!" he cried as he threw himself in front of the door. "It's rather messy, and I'd be terribly embarrassed if I let you in…"
"Oh, alright." Christine doubted Erik kept his room messy, but it would be rude to press him further. Instead, Erik led Christine to the third floor of the manor. Besides unoccupied guest rooms, there wasn't much on that storey except for the center room rising with the magnificent domed ceiling. There was a large circular mezzanine looking into the atrium garden two stories below.
"You stay here," Erik instructed Christine while he ran around to the other side of the mezzanine. Christine frowned, but did as she was told. She jumped when Erik's voice teased at her ear even though he was on the other side of the room.
"It's a whispering gallery," Erik said, and with his expert ventriloquism skills, he could use the room to his advantage.
"That's fantastic!" Christine said when he returned to her. "This whole house is wonderful, I should say."
"Thank you very much," said Erik. "And this concludes our tour!"
"Really?" said Christine disappointedly. "I remember there being a tower when I came in the carriage. Is that accessible?"
"Ah, yes. It is accessible, but only through my room…" Erik mumbled. Christine was dying to see the view from the tower and Erik could deny her nothing so he took her back to his bedroom door.
"I must warn you," he began. "It's a curious space, and it's rather messy. Promise me you won't look around?"
Christine nodded, but she still thought Erik was lying about the mess. Little did she know, it was the truth. Gustave had not inherited his tidiness from his father. Each of the bedrooms in Erik's house were modeled after a particular era or style. Erik had chosen a dark Gothic scheme for himself, but Christine was too distracted by the chaos to admire the decor. Books and papers littered Erik's sitting room in between jackets that had been taken off and cast aside in the middle of work. A week's worth of empty tea cups were stationed around the room because Erik had forgotten to return downstairs, and he didn't allow anyone in his chambers.
"Please don't look…" moaned the mortified Erik when he caught Christine peering into his bedroom at the unmade bed and the continuity of the clutter. He dragged her up the spiral staircase into the tower she was so desperate to see.
The room was walled with glass windows, giving the small room the illusion of grandeur. Erik opened a door and led Christine onto the balcony surrounding the perimeter of the tower. Beneath them, Erik's gardens separated the house from the beach and the immensity of the Long Island Sound. Christine shivered as the winter winds blew loose tendrils into her face; her chestnut hair had grown to shoulder length since it'd been chopped off during the summer. Erik took off his heavy wool coat and placed it over her shoulders. Christine smiled at his small act of kindness, though she would've preferred if he'd wrapped her in his arms instead.
"Does this balcony have a special name too?" she asked.
"Hmm...Well in New England- that's the region a bite farther north." Erik pointed across the Long Island Sound. "In New England, they might call this a 'widow's walk', un balcon de veuve." He tried his best to translate the American colloquial term into French for Christine.
"Oh, how macabre!" she exclaimed. "Why on earth would they call it that?"
"Well, New England has a long maritime history. They say wives would stand on their balconies to look for their husbands' ships," Erik explained. "As you can imagine from the name, many ships didn't return."
"Ah. I see." Christine bit her lip as she admired the view. Her husband would be returning someday, not via the Long Island Sound thankfully, but he'd be coming whether she liked it or not.
"I apologize the gardens aren't in bloom," Erik said to fill the empty silence. "Hopefully, you can see them in the spring-I mean I hope you've recuperated by then of course." He blushed as he clutched the railing. Christine reached her hand toward his, but when they touched, his hand shirked away.
"I suppose we ought to go back inside," Erik said. "It's rather chilly out here, and I'd hate for you to catch a cold because of my carelessness."
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Christine agreed, but she could've stayed in the cold forever as long as Erik was by her side.
They chatted idly as they made their way back to Christine's chambers. On the bifurcated staircase, they ran into Meg. She glared at them and pursed her lips at Erik's coat draped over Christine's shoulders. Erik averted his eyes to the ground, but Christine pretended not to notice her ex-best friend's icy behavior.
"Thank you for giving me the grand tour," said Christine to Erik at the doorway to her boudoir.
"You're very welcome," he replied. "I hope I haven't exhausted you!"
"Not at all, I think the exercise and fresh air was good for my health," she replied. Erik nodded in agreement, and the pair stood awkwardly when they ran out of small talk.
"Christine, if you're up for it," Erik started shyly, "we'd love you to join us for dinner in the breakfast room."
"Thank you, Erik. I think I will," Christine answered with equal shyness.
"Excellent! It will be served in ten minutes," he said, staring down at his pocket watch. "Will that be enough time for you to get ready? We can delay-"
"That should be plenty of time," Christine said with a smile. She removed his coat from her shoulders, lamenting the loss of its weight and warmth, and handed the garment back to him. With the absence of Erik's heavy coat, Christine felt light as she shut the door behind him, but her heart sank.
This life was temporary. Why did Raoul have to come back? Why couldn't she stay in this paradise forever?
Christine sat down at her vanity table to complete her toilette before dinner, but the mundane task was unable to distract her from her sorrows. Her head fell into her hands as a sob escaped from her lips. She jumped at the knock on her door and wiped her tears from her eyes.
"Come in!" she called.
Madame Giry entered the room. "Erik would like to know if you will be joining as for dinner," the ex-ballet mistress said stiffly. "We're all waiting for you."
"Oh...yes. I'm coming," Christine said hastily. After Madame Giry left, Christine sloppily put up her hair and tried her best to hide the fact she'd been crying. She made her way down the corridors, pausing every so often, fearful she'd gotten lost, but she made it to the bifurcated staircase leading down into the foyer.
When Christine entered the breakfast room for dinner, Erik sat at the head of the table in between Gustave and Madame Giry, while Meg sat beside her mother, scowling at the new addition to their dinner party.
"Choose any seat you'd like," said Erik gesturing to the two empty chairs. Christine was about to sit beside her son because the other vacant chair was beside Meg, and why would Christine want to sit next to that woman? But Christine stopped. The seat beside Meg was at the foot of the table, the end opposite from Erik. As a vicomtesse, Christine knew a thing or two about being the lady of the house, and she knew the lady of the house always sat across from the master of the house.
The dinner party held their breath as Christine pulled out the chair opposite of Erik and plopped herself into the seat, smug as a cat. The mistress of Mazandaran had arrived.