Between Mirrors and Roses (A Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction) ✓

34: Changes

Christine

"There've been no more drug incidents?" I asked Erik. We were finishing lunch together, and soon Erik would disappear again into his study.

"None," he said.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad." A pause. "You remember that we have a visitor this afternoon?"

Erik eyed me warily. "The lady from the house across the street who invited herself over?"

"She didn't invite herself over," I said. "She welcomed us to the neighborhood, inquired as to why she hadn't met us yet, and expressed an interest in seeing me again." I noticed that his disgusted look had not changed. "Don't worry," I assured him, "you don't have to meet her. She is calling on me to chat; that is all." I sincerely hoped that what I said would prove true.

The overdressed woman had stopped me while I was taking a walk a few days prior. She'd recognized me as the lady living in the austere new residence that had been built a few months ago and sat empty until our moving in. She'd seemed friendly enough, if a bit forward, and I had invited her over for tea. Today she was to visit.

We didn't get many guests, so I took some time after lunch to straighten up the parlor.

A rap on the door announced my visitor's arrival.

Jeanette answered the door and ushered her into the parlor.

"Ah, Madame Badeaux! How lovely to see you again," I exclaimed.

She had a thin, sharp nose and an otherwise plain face. She wore a floor-length, sky-colored gown that was cinched so tight at the waist I was surprised she could breathe. "Please, call me Ivonne!" she insisted, kissing me on the cheek in greeting.

I offered her the sofa and sat on a chair across from her, a coffee table between us. "Can I offer you some tea?" I asked.

"Tea would be delightful," she said. "I would be ever so grateful for your obliging hospitality."

Jeanette curtsied and fetched the tea tray. She wore her best frock to impress our neighbor.

"How long have you and Monsieur Daae been married?" Mme Badeaux asked.

"Only a few months," I replied. "And how about you?"

"Oh," she said, accepting her teacup without a glance at Jeanette. "It must be four or five years now. Time goes by so fast!"

"That will be all, Jeanette," I said. "Thank you."

"Madame," she acknowledged and left.

Mme Badeaux leaned forward conspiratorially. "You will soon learn how to survive the rule of the husband. Please him at the right moments, and he'll let you do as you wish the rest of the time. I don't know how much I spent last year on clothing!" She laughed. "Monsieur Badeaux doesn't mind one bit as long as I'm quiet and polite when his friends are around."

My shock grew with every word of this tirade. How was I supposed to respond? "I'll keep that in mind," I said.

She kept going. "Take my advice: men want to feel as if they are in charge, regardless of whether they are or not. As long as you act obliging and make him think every idea is his, you can get away with anything."

"I like to think we engage open and honest discourse about issues that matter, and we trust one another when it comes to those that don't."

"You trust him to do as he pleases and he trusts you not to ask questions, you mean," she said with a smirk.

Uncomfortable, I clutched my teacup and cleared my throat. "What do you mean?"

Her face scrunched up in sympathy. "Oh, you poor lamb. I meant that husbands are all the same; they care little for what we think and do, as long as it doesn't interfere with their plans. They live their lives, and we live ours. You must be prepared for him to stray... to take up habits you won't like..."