Chapter 50

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Marguerite's gaze fixed on the passing building outside as the carriage rolled into the night. Across from her, Mary watched her in silence, waiting for some explanation for this outrageous venture. When five minutes had passed and Marguerite hadn't uttered a single word, the maid brought herself to ask,
"What are we doing, Miss?"

Marguerite remained silent as she couldn't seem to reason out her impulsive action. She only knew that if she just sat idly by at home, the tormenting ordeal of not knowing what really happened would drive her mad. Looking at Marguerite with a pitiful eyes, Mary carefully said,
"Not to presume, Miss, I understand what you're feeling now and I'm sorry this happened to you, but this is pointless, and it will only hurt you more."

Marguerite bit her lip. Perhaps her maid was right, this was a pointless thing to do, but instead of being tortured by endless suspicion and doubt, she preferred to learn the truth with her own eyes, no matter how ugly it might be. Only if her suspicion proved correct, she could decide what to do next.

The moment they arrived at the opera building, masses of people had just poured out of the front doors and onto the sidewalk, making entry impossible.

"I'm afraid the show is over, Miss." called out the driver. "Are we heading back home?"

Mary's jaw dropped when unexpectedly Marguerite replied,
"No. Go to the rear entrance."

Several minutes later, the hackney turned into a quiet alley at the back of the building and pulled over in front of the back door. Marguerite twisted in her seat, peering over her shoulder through the foggy window to see the building.

A wistful feeling settled over her as her gaze swept over the once familiar sight of the red brick wall at the back, now looking old and worn down, the peeling blue paint on the sturdy wooden doors. She had more than a passing acquaintance with this place. Such an ironic coincidence that before Marguerite's mother met Joe Goddard, she once worked backstage. Her job was to maintain the costumes for the show, from laundering to mending the broken ones. Marguerite still remembered that all the opera workers, including the glamorous performers, used the rear entrance to come and go.

"Miss Maggie, what are we going to do here? I think we'd better go home."
Mary's impatient voice startled her out of her thoughts. Turning away from her maid's disapproving eyes, Marguerite pushed away from her seat.
"I'll go inside. Wait for me in the carriage."

Stepping out onto the curb, Marguerite pushed the left door slightly open ~ she still remembered that the other one was fixed ~ and peeked into the dim, empty hallway. After she was certain no one was around, she slipped inside. Quietly she followed the corridor, sneaking past offices, dressing rooms and wardrobe rooms. Deeper into the building, she crept by the wall, anxious to avoid being seen or heard. Within seconds she'd crossed the practice room corridor. There was only one passage to pass to reach the dressing rooms. As it curved to the right, she continued forward. Unfortunately, when she almost reached the next turn, one of the doors suddenly swung open and a worker emerged from inside.

The man spotted her at once and Marguerite froze midstep. Her first instinct was to turn around and run, but she couldn't seem to move a muscle. She stood rooted to the spot, her heart hammering when the man squinted at her and opened his mouth to say,

"Why are you just standing there, lass? Are you lost?"

The words had just begun to sink in when the man's face broke into a friendly smile.
"Let me guess, you are new here, aren't you?"

At that moment, Marguerite recovered from her shock, and somehow managed to come up with an instant deceit.
"Oh yes, Sir. I... I'm the seamstress' helper. She sent me to collect Miss Anja Pavlova's costume, but I can't find her room."

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