ALL I KNOW OF LOVE
Erik and Christine are the creation of Gaston Leroux; the reference to Persia and some of its customs are derived from Susan Kay's book, "Phantom". All other characters and the backdrop of the story are the creations and property of GerrysJackie.
Some places and all names are fictional.
PLAYERS:
Erik – Gerard Butler - Perfect
Christine – The face and coloring of Zooey Deschanel (Failure to Launch, Elf) – and the body of Marilyn Monroe, except 3 inches taller
Gustav - Billy Connelly – Because I really like him.
Patrick Connelly - Paul Bettany – (A Knights Tale, Firewall, A Beautiful Mind)
Pascal – Mel Gibson's looks (slightly older with graying hair) with the cunning and cruelty of J.R. Ewing from "Dallas".
Madam Marie Forsythe – Miranda Richardson
James Lumpkin (the butler) – Daniel Davis (the butler from the TV show "The Nanny")
Kamilla – Georgie Henley (Chronicles of Narnia)
Duke Sergei Beauvais – Derek Jacobi (Underworld:Evolution)
Use your imagination on all others.
This story has taken a while to develop, but I hope it has been worth it. I have several chapters already written, but I am taking my time. There is humor, drama, and romance in this story, so I hope you will enjoy it.
This rendition of Erik is one of a man who has suffered greatly in his life, at the hands of just about everyone in his life, but his spirit is still intact. He is less self-loathing than others that I have written, but he is very much aware of his self-proclaimed faults. He is dangerous and ruthless, but has had enough of death and destruction. Women are still a mystery to him, and he needs a strong, independent woman who is his equal in every way.
This Christine is not a drop-dead gorgeous woman, but her beauty is less assuming and soft…Erik will see it.
I will try to update twice a week, depending on how quickly I write chapters. I don't anticipate this being a particularly long story, but we'll see.
Enjoy.
CHAPTER 9 – Know Your Enemies
"I think your designs are splendid, Marquis Laroque…I have not seen their equal…not for many years." Lord Haverty reported.
Erik gave a nod, acknowledging the man's complement. He had already been commissioned to design three new homes for these noblemen; and he was about to make it four.
He finished the deal with Ancel Haverty and shook the mans hand, "When would you like the designs sent to you?"
"As soon as possible...will you be overseeing the building yourself - or do you have a team that does that?" Haverty asked.
Erik smirked regally, "I have a team of experts at my disposal...when you have a parcel of land picked out...notify me and I will send them promptly."
Lord Ancel Haverty was the only man among the few that were in the room that he respected, as soon as he left - there would be none.
"Very good then, I will contact you."
Erik shook the man's strong hand and walked him to the door. He sighed loudly and turned around to observe the other men in the room. The conversations floated toward him.
"The war almost ruined me." Sir Guischard stated.
Erik was tired of their pious attitudes and the way they talked as though they had nothing to their names. Many of them had abandoned their people and country when war had broke out, allowing the Commune to set the new standards for everyone.
When Erik had arrived at Vassadelle ten years ago, the estate was in ill repair. His father and his shady friends - many of whom stood in the same room with him at this very moment - had run the family fortune into the ground and had buried the entire estate in debt.
Erik could hear them whispering among themselves, degrading him with their eyes and words. He smirked to himself; every one of them underestimated him and the abilities he possessed. None of them knew it was he who had slipped into their opulent estates and taken back what belonged to the people of France - and not their already over stocked estates.
Fourteen years in the Persian court and prisons had taught him to disguise his interest and his presence. They all assumed he was preoccupied with making money – when, in fact, he had all the money he would ever need.
His real focus was keeping these men at arms length – every one of them had lied, cheated, stolen, and murdered to make their mark. He knew they wore masks of their own and pretendrf to like him; but he knew that their loyalties rested with his father.
It was Erik's close friendship with the Duke, which earned most of the sideways glances and glaring stares; Erik's keen senses warned him that these men could not be trusted – especially where the Duke and he were concerned.
"My wife tells me that you have remarried, Laroque, I do hope this marriage works out better than the first."
Snickers of amusement filled the room, and Erik did not bother to turn and look at the speaker. Baron Manndeville was a cad, in every sense of the word, and Erik could not tolerate the man very well; but he was good practice for learning how to control his temper.
"He married the homely eldest daughter of the Delancy family of the Genes Region." Sir Guischard whispered; assuming incorrectly that Erik couldn't hear him. "It seems the Duke arranged it."
Baron Manndeville laughed aloud at that, "She is homely…all that black hair, dark eyes, and flesh…she's a hand full – in more ways than one."
Raucous laughter filled the room and Erik's fists clenched in rage.
"Tell me Laroque, what was it like bedding such a wench – all brains and bumps – but no beauty?"
Erik stood before them with his arms across his chest and a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Gentleman – and I use that term loosely – this line of questioning is not worthy of my retort…" he smirked sardonically, "…what I do – or don't do – with or to my wife is none of your concern. If you are too blind to see the beauty she possesses than that just goes to prove that my opinion of each of you is well-earned."
Each man fidgeted profusely and Erik resisted the need to laugh and roll his eyes.
"Is it true, Marquis, that you designed a palace in Persia?" Count de Vasser asked, swallowing hard to hide his unease.
Erik could tell the simpleton didn't really have an interest in such things; Erik deduced that the man had little interest in anything unless it involved very young, and very innocent women; and, if rumors were to be trusted, young boys.
"I did…" Erik stated, finally turning to look at his colleagues "…however, it was not used as a palace once it was completed."
"Really…" the count replied, "….fascinating; what was it used for?"
A scathing grin spread across Erik's shadowed features, "A torture chamber."
The room grew deathly quiet and Erik could almost hear their minds trying to grasp what he had just told them.
"A torture chamber?" The youngest man in the group asked with a scoffing laugh, "Whatever would they need a torture chamber for?"
Erik's tall, predatory figure gracefully descended on the young man, causing his heart to leap into his throat and a small, frightened, almost inaudible whimper to escape his lips. Erik's smooth, magisterial baritone filled the room.
"Boy, have you ever faced anything more dangerous than the scowl on your father's face?"
His eyes drilled into the young man's features; noting everything in his fresh-faced, handsome appearance that he would never have. This boy had seen no honest challenge in his life – he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
"I won't violate your delicate ears with details, but I've seen and done things that would make you recoil in horror." His stare was lurid and hard as granite, "The Sultana would have eaten you up and spit you out - I dare say she was more of a man than you are."
They had heard of the scars this man possessed, both physically and mentally. The Marquis was a man to have on your side, because the alternative meant that he was your enemy; and everyone knew what he did to his enemies.
They all centered their focus on Erik and noticed that he was looking at his pocket watch, "Gentleman, to say this has been enjoyable would be a lie… so I will simply bid you ado." He bowed, retrieved his hat and coat, and proceeded out the door.
ЖЖ
He was livid from head to foot. His instincts demanded that he rip each insolent man apart with his bear hands; a task Erik could easily carry out if he were asked to; but his control was very dear to him.
He didn't even care that he hadn't closed but four deals; he was making a great deal of money by designing homes for the uppity nobles and their snooty families.
Kaveh had left a week and half ago; right before Erik had married Christine. Erik had sent him to Paris to sell some music, operas, arias – anything they demanded of the renowned composer, M.E. Fantôme; there was no doubt, Erik's music was, by far, the most sought after thing in all of Europe.
There were places in his music and lyrics that skated on the edge of decency, and Erik thrived on it. He knew nothing about the act of making love on a personal level, but from an artist's point of view, he felt his way through it and it manifested itself in his music and his art.
Erik settled into the bathtub and soaked away the aches that seemed always to be with him. The torture and drugs he had endured in Persia had left lasting impressions on his body, inside and out.
To look at him, one would ascertain that he was the perfect specimen…lean muscles lined his front torso as well as the back; his toned arms and legs did not fully divulge the total strength and power that he possessed.
Erik had never given much thought to the shape his body was in while he existed in the darkness of Persia, but he had children now, and he longed to know what the future held. He was not certain how much of his life had been stolen from him by the Sultana and her wicked ways.
His mind left the wickedness of Persia behind and dwelled on the image of his new bride. Regardless of his control, Erik found himself reacting to her on a very physical level; and that was a disturbing discovery.
He could not and would not allow himself to get lost in her; she would never accept him…especially after being forced to marry him. What a pity, for he truly wanted to see her eyes light up at the sight of him and see a smile grace those sweet lips.
Tomorrow he would be on his way to visit the Duke and give him the latest on his monitory victories, and to update him on the opera he had demanded that Erik compose.
ЖЖ
Erik was entertaining his friend by pretending to lose at a game of billiards; Sergei wasn't particularly good at the game, but Erik humored him.
"Something different, Erik…I'm getting tired of the same old story line." Sergei said, hitting the 7 ball toward the pocket, but missing terribly.
Erik chuckled at his words, but there was a hint of sarcasm in his tone, "Sergei, you know that operas are all about tragedy and love, betrayal and murder – undoubtedly, all the wonderful things that make life worth the living."
Sergei painfully grimaced at the mention of betrayal and murder; two unfortunate side effects of love in the noble ranks. He grimaced again, as Erik sank the 14 in the right side pocket with no effort.
"I want the hero to be slightly unsavory and definitely not perfect…and the object of his affection needs to be young and innocent, not totally aware of who or what he is…oblivious to his faults but attracted to his darkness – do you understand what I mean?"
Erik smirked at Sergei's description, "So you want him to be like me."
Sergei put his finger to his lips and thought for a moment before smiling knowingly, "Yes; that would be perfect."
Erik shook his head and peered through lowered eyelids at the man that had become a very close friend in a matter of a short time, "You're a sick man, Sergei."
"I am aware of that - but I have been called worse."
"I've no doubt of that."
Sergei was one the few people in his life that Erik felt comfortable being around. In the year following his return from Persia, Sergei had given Erik the time he needed to adjust to his new surroundings, and had done what he could for the physical and mental anguish Erik had been through in his life.
His recovery had been almost as much torment as the years of drug abuse and torture had been; but Erik had proven to be everything the Sergei had needed him to be, and more.
"I don't care that you put your pseudonym on this new opera or not, but I do wish you would let the world know that it is you who writes these wonderful operas and musical scores." Sergei chastised.
Erik shrugged his broad shoulders and sighed, "It doesn't matter, Sergei, as long as the music and operas are appreciated and I make the commission off of them, I am certainly willing to avoid the public eye."
"You'd have women begging you to court them, and even more begging to be taken to your bed." Sergei teased, "It would be a veritable smorgasbord for a young man such as you."
Erik chuckled, and squinted at his friend, "I never realized how demented you really were until this very moment." He continued with his jovial manner, but Sergei sensed a touch of sadness in his tone, "I've never meant a woman willing to have anything more than friendship with me."
Sergei scoffed at Erik's words, but said nothing – they had had this conversation many times. Although Erik was comfortable with himself, he did not think others were or ever would be…especially a woman.
"I know that you have the same desires and needs as any other man, Erik…how do you cope with them if you are unwilling to resort to purchasing release?" Sergei marveled.
Erik stood tall and proud before answering, "I put those desires and passions into my music and art…that is what sustains me."
Erik leaned over and sank the last of his striped balls and then dropped the 8 ball in the upper left pocket. He could bare it no longer and had to end the misery.
Sergei stood shocked beside the table and arched his eyebrow at a smirking Erik, "I thought you were going to let me win?"
Erik laughed aloud, realizing that Sergei had known along that he was letting him win, "You knew this, and you still let me purposefully lose?"
"It feels better to win." Sergei shrugged.
"I must be leaving Sergei; I need to pick up my sister-in-law and her daughter. They are going to be living with us." Erik announced as the gathered his things.
"How is the new bride, Erik?"
"Beautiful…and distracting." Erik replied thoughtfully
"And this is a bad thing?"
"Not a bad thing, just an unexpected one…I don't need this, Sergei; you know that." Erik sighed, "The last woman I was attracted to ripped my heart out, cut it to pieces, held it over open flames, and then stood over me – laughing while I bled to death."
"That's a bit overdramatic, don't you think?" Sergei stated with a smile. "She was a she-devil Erik, I knew this…but I had no idea she would consort with Pascal the way she did."
"I know, my friend…I know."
ЖЖ
Erik lingered with Sergei another day before heading to Verne to retrieve Bethany and Giorgia. He had not told his new wife that he was picking them up; in fact, he hadn't told her he was leaving…but that didn't really matter – it wasn't like she would miss him.
After retrieving Bethany and Giorgia, Erik intercepted Kaveh at the train station and they rode the rest of the way by carriage.
Erik had not seen Kaveh so taken with a woman since he lost his wife. Bethany seemed equally besotted with him and little Giorgia was just happy to see her mother smile again.
TBC
Thank you to all who found, "The Epic Case of the Phantom of the Opera", and gave it a read. I know that it is not everyone's cup of tea, but the story is amusing and well-researched. We can all use a little imagination in our lives - and this story is certainly full of it! It is the first time-travel fic that I have actually enjoyed!