The Musician's Maid

Chapter 3

I followed the thin man through a dimly lit corridor. The hallway only glowed with a few gas lamps, showing a long stretch of wooden walls lined with costume pieces, or set pieces from various time periods. We passed by a wooden archway, and I looked through to see a small room filled with roman armor and shields. The thin man sighed. "From our production of Hannibal. Sir, if you please." He stretched his long thin arm out to indicate that he wanted me to continue following him. I shuffled back into the dim hallway and nervously fingered the collar on my jacket. 

"I don't believe I caught your name, sir." I said, as we passed by another doorway leading to a wooden staircase, and another leading to a dressing room. The building smelled of wet wood, smoke, and strangely; lavender. 

"I am Pierre Dante." He said sharply. "The artistic co-director and stage manager." We continued on, the sound of hammering and a soft piano came through the next door. "That is the stage, through there," Pierre explained, "They are working on the set and rehearsing the dance number in the new Gilbert and Sullivan production."

"Oh what show is that?" I asked enthusiastically. Pierre looked at my from side. He seemed to be unimpressed. 

"The Gondoliers. A horrid story if you ask me. I have no patience for Italians." He said, rolling his eyes. 

"Ah Patience! I see what you did there!" I said cheerfully, thinking of the other famous Gilbert and Sullivan operetta of the same name. He looked at me again, with his cold expression. 

"I never joke about theatre." He said matter of factly. I checked myself. We continued on. 

We arrived at the end of the hallway near a closed door. I could hear muffled voices and some giggling inside. Pierre knocked on the door with his knuckles, and I heard a gruff voice call out, "What do you want?"

Pierre cleared his throat. "I have the new musical director with me, sir." I suddenly heard a high pitched squeal of delight, probably not from the same man who called out before. Then I heard a woman speak with a thick Italian accent.

"Ze musica director!" She said gleefully. "Please come in! I cannot-a wait to meet him!" The door swung open to reveal a short and stout middle aged man with a great red mustache, and a short and stout woman with a great black wig on her head, laying on his sofa. 

"Ah Sir Dante!" the woman said with a smirk on her lips, "Ever the lapdog fetching people about. Please be a dear and fetch me a glass of champagne from my dressing room?" Pierre turned white and a thin line appeared on his lips below his thin mustache. 

"Yes, madame." He said curtly before he left the room with a turn on his heels. I was left alone with the man and woman. 

"So, you must be mister Collingwell, our new music director!" The round man said with a smile, and a firm slap on my shoulder. I held back a wince. 

"Ah, it's actually Collingwood." I said with a nervous laugh. I stretched my hand out to the man and he gripped it with a firm shake. 

"Tomato tomahto." he said with a shrug. "I am Charles Burlan." He said with a curt nod. "And this vision of loveliness is our leading lady of 3 seasons, Carmen Bellotti."

The woman got up slowly from the divan, her dress of deep purple trailing behind her. She outstretched her hand in a limp, downward motion. I stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment, then realized she was waiting for me to kiss her hand. I quickly did so, and her head rolled back in a overdramatic fashion. 

"Such a charmer!" She said, looking me up and down. "Come!" She said, "you must hear me sing!" She suddenly turned around and posed in a dramatic fashion. Charles sat on the divan and pulled me down to sit with him. 

"She will be perfect in that new operetta you sent me. I can just hear her voice in your Juliet." He said, turning pink with lust. 

"Oh!" I said, "You want to put on my operetta of Romeo and Juliet?" He nodded, then shushed me so that I could pay full attention to the diva. 

She opened her mouth to sing, and a thick Italian aria poured from her lips. The voice of a husky grown woman. My heart sank a little in my chest. I always imagined Juliet as a soft ingenue, an angel, but this woman reminded me more of Juliet's mother, Lady Capulet. Suddenly, and idea crept into my head. I gasped, causing the Diva to stop singing, looking at me with her head cocked to one side. 

"You must be my Lady Capulet! No one could play her but you!" I said, jumping up from my seat. There was a sudden silence in the room. 

"L-lady Capulet?" She stammered. Suddenly she burst into sobs, Charles leaping from the divan to comfort her. I didn't know what to do with myself so I began to slowly back away out of the room. Suddenly Pierre returned holding a glass of champagne. 

"Your champagne Madam." He said. She suddenly hurled a pillow at Pierre, knocking the drink out of his hand and all over his crisp blue suit. His face turned ashen as he slammed the door shut and stared at me in disbelief. 

"This," He said, his voice shaking, "Is why I can't stand Italians."