Of Phantoms and Angels

II. A change in Management

     Lilienne flew through the corridors of the opera house, her costume askew and her shoes in her hand- she could not be late to a rehearsal. She was never late for anything, but it seemed as if today the world could not fall in place for her, and a series of misfortunes had sent her racing down the halls to the stage.

     As she ran, she was too preoccupied to notice the people in her way. As she rounded the corner to the front of the opera, she ran straight into something hard- or rather, someone.

     "Whoa, there, are you alright?" The voice was male, and Lilienne guessed that it belonged to the man whose chest she was staring at as he steadied her.

     "Oui, monsieur. I am so sorry-" She looked up to him, now; he was young, dressed finely, with a kind smile. He cut her apology short.

     "That's quite alright, mademoiselle."

     "Do you not have a rehearsal to attend, Mlle LaClaire?" M Lefèvre, the manager of the Opéra Populaire, looked scoldingly down his nose at the little dancer.

     "My apologies, messieurs."

     Lilienne ducked her head apologetically and continued to run on her toes into the theatre. Everybody, musicians, dancers, chorus and actors alike were already on stage with the director- M Armand- and Mme Cartelle. Lilienne scurried into place, sitting to tie on her slippers, hoping no one had noticed her near-late entry. She had just enough time to catch her breath before the musicians started up the opening number.     

     The dancers all scurried into position, finding their places and opening the opera, the chorus weaving around in the background. It was always so different, to Lilienne, dancing on the stage; in the dance hall where they practiced it was tedious and dull, but on the stage, there was something about the lights and the sea of seats that thrilled her. Whenever she danced on the stage, she knew she belonged here, no matter what the others thought; no doubt they'd grown accustomed to her, but she'd never exactly fit in with the exotic lifestyle of these artists. She'd always felt ill-at-ease around their noisiness and drinking and snogging.

     They ran through the beginning scenes, the director shouting advice and corrections, the Prima Donna listening to none of it, and the manager observing from a low box, chatting with three other men- two of whom she'd never seen around the opera before, but the third was the young man she'd so ungraciously run into. Partway through the first act, M Armand called a break.

     The entire cast heaved a sigh and M Armand left to talk to M Buquet above, whose job was lighting and backdrops. Lilienne watched as the manager and his three guests appeared on the stage.

     "Ladies and gentlemen," M Lefèvre began, capturing their attention, "I'm afraid that this will be my last opera with the Opéra Populaire, as I will be retiring." The performers looked about themselves, whispering surprisedly. He gestured to the two men Lilienne hadn't recognized.

     "These are Messieurs André and Fermin, who will be taking my place. As well, the Paris Opera has a new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny." He smiled politely, and for just a moment Lilienne's eye caught on his and he gave her an amused smirk. Lilienne tried to conceal her blush.

     "Alright, that is enough introduction for now. Dancers, in position. We will take it from the top." Mme Cartelle interrupted, and everyone fell back into place, Lilienne clasping the prop chains of the slave girls around her wrists.

     They all went through it again, dancers intermingling with the chorus, and the Prima Donna Carlotta took front and centre, singing over everyone. Everyone rolled their eyes behind her back, as they always did; the woman was so full of herself it was nearly pathetic.

     Screams caused the music to come to a screeching halt as the backdrop came loose and fell, the dancers tripping over themselves in shock. It landed on Carlotta, and everyone rushed to her rescue- not that many really cared. Some stayed behind and sniggered, and others she heard whisper of the Ghost. Carlotta came up screaming.

    "You should count yourself lucky, Signora-" Joseph Buquet of lighting called down, "The Phantom of the Opera has done much worse to lovely ladies like yourself!"

     "That is enough, Joseph-" Mme Giry called up.

     "He likes to wrap his rope 'round your pretty little necks and squeeze until your face turns blue and your eyes pop out of your skull." Buquet pulled his eyes wide. Some of the young dancers let out horrified gasps- even the grown men seemed uneasy.

     "Joseph Buquet, hold your tongue!" Mme Giry shouted with a stamp of her cane. He disappeared among the catwalks with a sinister chuckle and a wink to the poor little frightened ballerinas. Lilienne just sighed- the Phantom of the Opera had never done anything worth fearing since she'd been here, so she'd never bothered to be afraid of this legend.

     "No! No! You are all stupid apes! Piangi, come, we are leaving!" Carlotta ignored all of this, storming off the stage with dramatic tears streaming down her face.

     "Signora, signora, please," the new managers implored, "these things do happen..."

     "No, no no! 'These things do happen'," she mimicked, "ma no! These things do not happen! Bring my doggie! I leave! Piangi! I leave now! I leave for real! Piangi!!" With that, she and her entourage stormed off the stage, and MM André and Fermin looked completely out of their depth- Lilienne felt a stab of pity for them. M Lefèvre gave an exhausted sigh.

     "Good luck to you, gentlemen. If you need me, I shall be in Australia."

     He left the theatre, purposefully avoiding the direction the former Prima Donna had taken.

     "What are we going to do? We'll have to refund an full house..." M André exclaimed, and she thought she heard M Fermin mutter something about failing before they'd begun.

     "Excuse me, Messieurs," a woman from the wings made herself visible. Mme Giry, a concierge, stepped forward from the shadows. Lilienne had always found her to be alarmingly mysterious, but for several years, her and her daughter had been the closest thing she'd had to a family.

     "Mlle Daaé could sing the part."

     "A chorus girl?" The new managers seemed almost offended by the woman's proposal.

     "Ah, but she's been taking lessons. She has a great teacher." The way she said this sent a shiver down Lilienne's spine.

     "Really? Whom?" They eyed the brunette curiously. Christine Daaé stepped forward.

     "I don't know the name..."

     "Very well." M Fermin sighed, "From the aria in the third act." He instructed the musicians. The music swelled around them and the whole stage was still as they waited on the chorus girl. And then she sang.

     Her voice was smooth and sweet- the complete opposite of Carlotta's, and everything the Prima Donna had lacked. Lilienne watched her as she sung, and she felt an uncomfortable blend of emotions; she felt a heart-warming beauty, and just a tinge of jealousy. She envied the young woman for her voice and the attention of her tutor. Not that Lilienne had been one to seek attention- she tried hard to avoid it. But she felt green inside, wishing to be the owner of such beauty and magnificence. But she knew it wasn't to be- Lilienne LaClaire was of little consequence.

     Everyone's eyes appeared to go damp, and it was obvious that tonight's show would be a success.

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