I sadly don't own the Phantom or any other characters created by G. Leroux, S. Kay and A. L. Webber, but they always have a place in my heart.

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS

Joséphine led him to her room, where she immediately dropped on a chaise by the window and let out a breath. "This woman, she's….!" Erik had stopped next to the door and was watching her intently.

"Are you alright?" he asked. She lifted her hand to her cheek, cooling the sting from the slap.

"Yes, it is nothing. The fact that she dared to hit me hurts actually more than the slap itself," Joséphine explained.

"Where do we go from here?" Erik asked her, moving further into the room, until he arrived in front of her. Kneeling down, he took her hand away from the cheek to investigate the small red bruise that began manifesting itself.

Joséphine looked out the window, thinking through her options.

"I don't want to go the Master bedroom, it belongs to my father, and he will need it when he returns. Besides, I don't think Clara would want to give it up. There is a spare room next to mine, connected through the door over there." She tilted her head towards the door, then turned and faced Erik again. "That is if you don't want to share my room as it would be your right as my husband." She blushed, glancing away.

Erik looked at her, surprised. "No, I will not bother you with my presence more than is necessary," he replied resolutely.

"You're not…," Joséphine started, but kept to herself as she saw Erik's expression. He would not be dissuaded so easily from thinking his person would perturb others. "Never mind."

Joséphine got up and rang a bell next to the bed. Only minutes later there was a knock on the door and a maid entered. She was of about the same age as Joséphine, and resembled her also in stature. Her black hair was tightly pulled back in a bun, and her servants' clothes were impeccable.

She curtsied and addressed Joséphine with warmth in her voice "What can I do for you, Milady?"

"Mathilde, this is my husband, Erik Perrault."

"That's what the jacket was for!" she exclaimed. "I am so glad you did manage to find one in time, congratulations!" Mathilde turned to curtsy to Erik, trying hard not to stare at him, but failing miserably.

"Mathilde," Joséphine said exasperated.

"I'm sorry Jo…Milady," Mathilde replied, curtsying once more.

"Is my stepmother in the sewing room?" Joséphine asked.

"Yes, she called for the solicitor and is waiting for his arrival. She seems quite upset," the maid replied, stifling a smirk.

"Very well. I want you to prepare the adjoining room for my husband, and please prepare me a bath," Joséphine instructed her. Nodding, Mathilde turned to leave the room, but was stopped by Joséphine calling out once more.

"You don't need to call me Milady in front of Erik, he won't mind." Mathilde turned her head and nodded.

"Alright Joséphine." Smiling, she left the room.

"You two are friends," Erik stated.

"Yes, she is the only one of my age in this house, and we grew very close in the past months," Joséphine told him. "Would you like a tour of the house in the meanwhile?"

"That would be fine," Erik replied.

The house was marvellous, and Erik was most impressed by the library and the small music room. It had a small piano in one corner, as well as a violin and some flutes.

"Do you play?" Erik asked his wife, intrigued.

"Only the piano, and not very well," she responded. "My father plays the violin and the flutes. The piano was my mothers," she elaborated.

Erik went to investigate the instrument, finding it well tuned. He sat down and started playing, soon loosing himself in the melody, not noticing the reaction he elicited from Joséphine. When he heard her sob, he stopped abruptly.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed, searching the folds of her dress for a handkerchief. "I didn't want to interrupt you. The melody was just so sad…"

Before Erik could respond, they were interrupted by Mathilde appearing at the door.

"Joséphine, the solicitor has arrived and asked to see the documents of your marriage," she informed her friend and employer.

Blowing her nose, Joséphine nodded and turned to Erik, who had stood up from the piano and was striding towards her.

"I am disinclined to hand the documents over to Clara without being present, do you care to join me?" she asked Erik who shook his head.

"I rather retreat to my room, I need to consider an appropriate replacement for this," he said quietly, motioning towards the bandage.

"Very well. Tell Mathilde if you need anything and one of the servants will get it for you." Erik nodded, then left with Mathilde following him to the upper floors.

Steeling herself for the next confrontation with Clara, Joséphine drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Determined she walked towards the sewing room on the other side of the house.

"Ah, there you are, Mademoiselle d'Escayrac," the solicitor welcomed her. He was a man of around 50, with a protruding belly and a full beard that had more and more grey in it every time she saw him. His small brown eyes were sparkling behind round glasses, his hair was neatly trimmed. He was a good man who had managed all legal affairs of her family since she was a child.

"It is Madame Perrault now, Monsieur Hublot," she told him, offering her hand. "I trust you and your family are well?"

"Very well indeed," he answered merrily, kissing her hand. "Forgive my slip, Madame, I have only just been informed that you got married."

When Clara cleared her throat, both turned their attention towards her. She throned in her favourite chair by the window, her sewing kit resting next to her. "Please, take a seat Monsieur Hublot," Clara said friendly, ignoring Joséphine who remained standing not far from the door.

The solicitor installed himself on the fauteuil across from her. "Ah, yes, thank you Marquise. In the letter you sent to me you asked me to look over some documents?" he inquired.

Shifting in her seat and casting a dismissive glance towards her stepdaughter, Clara started to explain. "Yes, I want you to look over her marriage papers, to see if they are in order."

"But why shouldn't..." his demand was stopped by the angry look Clara shot him.

"Just do it."

"Very well," the solicitor said, uncomfortable. "Madame, would you please hand me the papers?" he addressed Joséphine. She did as he asked, and waited for him to confirm their legality.

After a few minutes, the solicitor looked up, smiling at Joséphine, then turning to Clara.

"There is nothing amiss with these papers, your daughter is legally wed," he informed Clara, who looked crestfallen. "May I offer my congratulations, Madame Perrault, and inquire after the whereabouts of your husband?"

"He will be moving in here with us, so he is overseeing the preparations of his room. He wants everything to be according to his wishes," Joséphine replied.

"Oh, it is never wrong to demand accuracy. How long have you two known each other?" Monsieur Hublot carried on, not noticing Clara's head jerking up and her eyes fixing on Joséphine.

"Not very long, actually, but we soon had an understanding, and our feelings towards each other are mutual."

"Is he of a wealthy family?" the solicitor continued asking her.

"He is the only one left of his family, but he is quite wealthy. He works as an architect and gets very well paid." Monsieur Hublot got up to bow before Joséphine.

"I am glad to hear you are well. With his money and the heritage you are gaining access to due to your marriage you are well cared for, Madame." He turned towards Clara. "Is there anything else you want me to look over?"

"No," Clara said shortly, forgetting etiquette and not getting up.

"I wish you both a good day then. Marquise, Madame." Bowing once more, Monsieur Hublot left the room, leaving the two women alone staring at each other.

After a while, Joséphine broke the uncomfortable silence. "I am sorry how this had to happen, but you left me no choice."

"No choice but to marry the first man crossing your path after you sneaked out you little viper?" Clara accused her.

Staying calm in spite of the insult Joséphine continued. "Not the first man, no, but, given the circumstances, a good choice."

"What's with the bandage?" Clara spat.

"He contracted a severe illness while working abroad, leaving him scarred for life. Sometimes, there is an infection and to avoid further spreading, he needs the bandage." Joséphine elaborated.

"It is nothing contagious, I hope," Clara remarked, still searching for something to nullify the marriage.

"No, it is not, you have nothing to fear. If you will excuse me now, I will see to my husband."

"You do know that you will have to sleep with him to consummate the marriage? Are you prepared to offer yourself to a blemished man, to look at his scars when he takes your body for his pleasure?" Clara sneered, stopping Joséphine at the door.

Joséphine turned around to face her, her face flushed more from anger than embarrassment. "I know very well what my duties as a wife are. His scars don't scare me, I made my choice. You lost, Clara, accept it."

Nearly running up the stairs, Joséphine tried to calm down again before seeing Erik. She didn't want him to know how much Clara's words had troubled her. She knew that she had to bed him, but she was more scared about it because she had to sleep with a man she didn't love and who didn't love her back than because of his appearance. She did not think that love would ever find its way into this marriage, but if they succeeded at becoming friends, she would be more than content.

Entering what was to become Erik's room, she was surprised to find it prepared but empty. Ringing for Mathilde, she passed through the connecting door to see if he was perhaps in her chambers, but he wasn't there either. When Mathilde appeared, she asked her if she had seen her husband.

"He went to retrieve some of his things, he informed me. But he told me to give you this," handing her an unsealed envelope.

"You haven't read it, have you, Mathilde?" Joséphine asked her, sitting down on the bed. Mathilde blanched.

"Oh, I would never do such a thing, Joséphine. You know me better than that!"

"Yes I do, forgive me."

"Can I ask you a question, Joséphine?" Mathilde asked timidly, approaching her friend.

Nodding, Joséphine told her to continue. "Are you not afraid of him? I don't want to pry, but I find Monsieur Perrault rather threatening."

"Never speak ill of him again, I won't tolerate it," Joséphine said sternly. "Erik is imposing, but beneath his cold behaviour is fine man, and if I'm the only one to see, then well, so be it."

"I am sorry for offending you, I am. You know I only wish you the best," Mathilde offered sheepishly.

"I know," Joséphine conceded. "Leave me now." Curtsying, Mathilde left, leaving her alone.

Joséphine opened the note Erik had left her, wondering about its contents.

Joséphine,

I left to acquire the materials I need for a mask myself, I do not trust anyone but myself with it. I will also fetch some of my possessions, which may take some time. Do not wait up for me.

Erik

So he had gone out. She guessed the reason why he didn't come to tell her in person was that she was occupied with Clara and Monsieur Hublot and that he didn't want to interrupt. At least he was so considerate to leave a note.

Knowing that she wasn't up to facing Clara once more alone, she decided to stay in her room for the rest of the day after her bath and have dinner brought to her. Clara didn't seem to mind either, for she didn't ask for the cause of her absence from the table.

Occupying herself with a good book, time passed and Joséphine grew tired. The ordeal of the last days finally caught up with her. Even if she wanted to wait up for Erik, she wasn't able to. Succumbing to deep sleep, she never heard when Erik came back.