The Magician's Witch

A Night a the Opera

The servant Erik had hired—Gisele—came by an hour after Erik had left, toting groceries in her laden basket.

Eilis let her in, welcoming her warmly. Gisele seemed surprised by Eilis' genial attitude toward her. No doubt, she was more accustomed to the higher class trampling her underfoot, failing to acknowledge her existence until they required her skills.

Eilis showed her where the kitchen was, where pots and pans had been stored for the convenience of the tenant. She thanked the girl for her assistance, then returned to her preparations.

Years of attending high-brow events had given Eilis, Aria and Ronan plenty of practice for a night like this. Eilis—never having been fond of coating her face with makeup on a daily basis—had become a professional stylist in her own right. She was fastidious in her ability to dress and act the part of a ranking bourgeois lady when called upon to do so.

Everyone ate quickly, thanking Gisele emphatically for her culinary talents, then returned to their rooms to complete their ensembles.

Eilis escorted Gisele to the door, handing her an additional gold franc.

"But, your husband already paid me," Gisele insisted.

"I believe in paying extra for good work," Eilis informed her, winking.

Gisele thanked her genuinely, letting her know that she would return in the morning to perform her duties once more.

An hour later, as Aria was helping Eilis to zip up her dress, she heard a knock at the front door of the flat.

"Ronan, can you get that," Eilis called to her son. "It's probably your father."

Aria giggled behind her as she fastened the hook and eye together at the top of the gown. "I bet that sounded strange to say."

Eilis chuckled, feeling a little nervous. "It did. But I am more than happy to get used to saying it."

She turned to her daughter, holding her arms out. "Well?"

Aria grinned, her perfect white teeth gleaming behind rosy lips. Her hazel eyes popped beneath her dark lashes. Her deep rose-pink dress shimmered in the light like the surface of a pearl freshly plucked from a clam. Her hair gleamed, a cascade of soft curls framing her face. Her ears were dotted with a set of pearl earrings borrowed from her mother, a matching necklace adorning her graceful neck, a teardrop pearl pendant nestled just above her bust. Eilis knew her daughter would break a few hearts tonight.

Aria scrutinized her mother's ensemble. She was wearing a gown of a similar cut, the sleeves sitting off her shoulders, the skirt ending just above her feet. Her honey-toned hair was pinned up in a style hinting at the present era with a modern flare. Her dress was a forest green—always her color—accentuating the cream in her skin, her freckles standing out like stars. Her lips were a deep shade of red, her blue eyes piercing under dark lashes. Her ears boasted of gold Celtic knots. Around her neck hung the Christmas tree necklace Erik had made for her their first Christmas together, the rubies and emeralds and the diamond star winking in their settings.

"Papa might faint when he sees you," Aria predicted.

Eilis laughed. "I feel as jumpy as I felt on my wedding day," she confessed, turning to select the elbow-length gloves that matched her dress. She handed Aria's cream-colored gloves to her.

"Mom, you look beautiful. You and Papa are going to turn heads tonight."

Eilis grinned, eyeing her daughter. "You and your brother will be turning a few heads as well."

Out in the sitting room, Ronan sat on one of the loveseats while Erik paced the floor impatiently.

Ronan observed his father with a mixture of amusement and composure that came from years of waiting for his mother and sister to be finished fussing over their appearance.