Why Have You Brought Me Here?

Chapter 6: Prima Donna

Okay...i admit it...I've been dragging my feet a bit with this chapter, BUT STILL pay attention...in this chapter is some VERY USEFUL information. Next chapter will have the phantom's POV :)

AS always, enjoy!!! :)

Sincerely,

Sarah

 

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Chapter 6: Prima Donna

Staying away from that room was rather difficult. Something in there lured me to the mirror, the mirror which I had covered in vain indifference. I wanted to see my mother's image again, but each time I pondered this I felt my saneness sink into a bottomless pit of folly. I had a life now, a new home, a new guardian, and dwelling on the things...and people I had no more was counterproductive.

As I approached Meg's room, I knocked three times until a small voice allowed my entry.

"Meg, I'm all dressed and more than ready to tackle today's affairs" I said as I watched a chorus girl lace up her corset.

"Junebug, I was afraid you were going to barricade yourself in your room all day." As she said this, a bright smile raced across her face only to vanish into a small smirk. "Well," she said as she sat down on her bed, "I suppose it's time for you and me to get to work."

I followed Meg into the conservatoire and gazed in tremendous awe at the dancers and singers surrounding us. Their elaborate, and rather festive, costumes widened my eye and forced short, spiked breaths of amazement to rush from my diaphragm. My mother was right, the Opera Populaire was tantalizing in every aspect; from the costumes and garish lobby, to the almost recalcitrant actors, this palace was somewhat of a privilege to even observe, let alone occupy.

My father had always told me that I possessed no talented ability. I could not sing, or act, dance, or even draw, mostly because he never let me try. This would often spark controversy between both of my parents. Mother wanted me to test out my abilities, but father thought that these "abilities" would only draw unwanted attention. He often told me of a woman who had wanted excessive attention that, in the end, her angelic voice resented her and shifted to that of a toad. "Do you want to be another Carlotta?" my father would ask as I practiced a melody.

The first task that Meg sent me to accomplish wasn't difficult at all. I simply had to take down waist measurements of all the female dancers and then had the list to the seamstress. Growing up without lavish stores to buy clothes from, my mother and I usually made our own gowns and bodices.

As soon as I handed the list to Madame Garvier, a chorus girl pulled me off to the sidelines.

"Are you Meg's niece, Juniper?" I studied this girl's face as she spoke. She looked a few years older than I, but spoke like a spoiled imp who had just seen another object she wished to acquire.

"Yes, I am she, and you are?"

Her face reddened until the fire met her eyes. "Felicity Monsuave: singer, dancer, actress extraordinaire."

"I'm glad you're so nonchalant. People might think you were a braggart."

She began to shrink in front of me as I disintegrated her egotism. "I don't brag...I just...I just know that I'm good at what I do." Her voice slowed and tensed up. "At least I'm self-taught, unlike your mother was. I wished I had a phantom that could modify my voice."

A phantom? "What do you mean? Who do you speak of?"

A grin arose out of her fake humility. "So she never told you of her infamous affair with the Phantom of the Opera Populaire? Oh goody, I've been blessed with a purpose today. Follow me. If your aunt finds out that I've told you, I'll surely be dismissed from the conservatoire."

Felicity led me to a dark chapel within the Opera's lower levels. Being this deep within the Opera house made me feel uneasy.

We sat on the cold floor immersed in silence until the candles presented before us flickered and ceased.

"He's here...I just know it! They all believe that he died many years ago, but I doubt it. Juniper, my mother knew yours, and she also knew the terrible secret she was hiding. My mother often told me stories of the masked phantom who resided in the underground passages. I took you to this exact spot because we are exactly 50 feet above his abode. If you possess any type of connection with him, as your mother once did, then you would be able to feel him more intensely in this chapel. Here and in your room."

"My mother's room" I breathed as my eyes followed the flickering lights. I began to put the pieces together. "So then all the legends are true? My mother promising her first-born daughter to him in exchange for a peaceful and safe marriage to Raoul? Why would he want me?"

Felicity looked at me sparingly as she continued, "He probably wants a piece of Christine that he could never have. You're an extension of her, her blood flows through your veins. He wants a second chance. You are his second chance. He haunts each and every hallway with his music...or so my mother use to say. Anyways, I could never hear the melody...maybe you can."

My mind raced. He wanted me. I was promised to him. I belonged to him. The mirror, the voices, they were his passageways to me. My words trembled as I tried to regain composure. "Surely he mustn't want me. I'm not as debonair                and endowed as my mother once was, but even still, what should I do?"

Her eyes pitied me, but her words mocked my fright. "If I were you," her gaze wandered to her hands as she contemplated her words wisely. "If I were you...I would be completely terrified right now! Look at how gullible you are! You don't actually believe that someone would actually want a silly, misconstrued child, do you?"

 I looked into her eyes as she spoke these words, but there was no playful evidence of her farce. I was confused more than ever. Almost past my sanity, and tiresome as ever, I picked myself up from the floor and followed her back to the main level.

Meg had noticed my disappearance, but decided not to approach me as I wandered gravely to my room. As I entered, a cold wind raced against me.

 Had I left the window open?

 I walked deeper into the room and caught a glimpse of my appearance. My appearance? As I sauntered toward the mirror, fear registered as I noticed that the white cloth I had thrown over the mirror had now disappeared.

The mirror was exposed.

Who had been in here?

 What had been in here?   

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