Well, this is my first big project in a long time. Let's hope I actually get to the end of this one. A word of warning - don't expect updates to come regularly. They will probably be erratic and won't happen too often. Unless, of course, the chapters flow as well as this one.
I don't own The Phantom of the Opera. If I did, let's just say it would end quite differently... [coughMegxErikcough] What? I didn't say anything.
Chapter One – A Mysterious Affair
The Paris Opera House was much bigger than Jeanette expected. True, she had grown up surrounded by the grandeur of Vienna, Austria: Her childhood had been spent running through the crowded streets with the other children in a game of tag, learning to dance the waltz, and playing the violin at home with Mother on piano accompaniment and Father grinning cheerfully over his newspaper (her brother Johann would be either doing something artistic or getting into trouble somewhere, depending on his mood at the time).
It wasn't that the Opera Populaire was bigger in size than many buildings in Vienna, Jeanette decided, but that it had a larger presence. Wherever she went in Paris, Jeanette heard something about the Opera: the production of Faust last week, or this soprano, or that ballerina. The very air around her seemed to buzz with excitement and high expectations.
It has an aura, thought Jeanette, thinking this to be a very good sign.
Jeanette thought over her options. Being an exceptional violinist would do her no good here, as it was considered improper for a young lady to play in the pit orchestra. She remembered some ballet from her dance lessons, and she could sing well enough. She could be a chorus girl.
All at once, Jeanette was overcome with uncertainty. What if they say no? she wondered, growing anxious. What will I do then? I left behind everyone I know in Austria. For a wild, fleeting moment, she considered returning to her beloved Vienna, back home, where she belonged. She imagined her family welcoming her with open arms and loving expressions.
Jeanette was drawn out of her reverie by the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Without even bothering to look who it was, she gripped her suitcase tighter, blew a strand of shoulder-length brown hair out of her face, and marched boldly up to the huge wooden door of the Opera Populaire.
The foyer was almost empty, save for a few stage hands lugging props and bottles of alcohol up and down the grand staircase, and a small group of dancers in full costume standing off to the side. A few of them looked up when they heard the heavy door fall shut with a slam. Jeanette shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their disapproving gazes.
One girl, with long, golden hair and a rosy complexion, gave Jeanette a friendly smile and raised her hand slightly in greeting. Jeanette returned the gesture and approached the dancers cautiously.
"Excuse me," she said to the blonde girl. "Where might one go to join the chorus?"
"You'll need to speak to my mother," she answered immediately. "Follow me. I'm Meg, by the way. Meg Giry."
Meg led Jeanette through a small doorway to the left of the grand staircase and down a few dim passageways before arriving in the backstage area, where a stern-looking middle-aged woman was reading a letter that had been unfolded into three parts. Jeanette was strongly aware of the long wooden cane in her other hand.
The letter was quickly folded again and put back into the envelope as the woman raised her piercing gaze to the girls. Her spine was as straight as an exclamation mark, and she held herself with such an air of authority that Jeanette felt suddenly self-conscious of how awkward and foreign she herself must look.
Meg nodded encouragingly and took a step back. Jeanette inhaled and said, "I would like to join the chorus, madame."
The woman regarded her silently for a moment, her narrow blue eyes calculating. "What is your name?" she said finally, in a thick French accent.
"Jeanette Westerhausen."
"Is that of German origin?"
"Austrian, madame."
"I see. Very well, then. You will call me Mme. Giry. I will speak to M. Lefevre to get you registered. In the meantime, Meg, show Mlle. Westerhausen to the dormitories."
The girls watched Mme. Giry walk purposefully down the length of the backstage, presumably to the manager's office, with strong feelings of relief.
"I think she fancies you," Meg commented, and laughed merrily at Jeanette's incredulous expression.
- - -
Just as Jeanette finished getting settled in the dormitories, a short girl with curly auburn hair and a very pale complexion burst into the room. Jeanette guessed it was another dancer, because she was dressed identical to Meg.
"The Opera ghost!" she cried. "We saw him, Sophie and Adelaide and me! He—"
"Goodness, Jammes, lower your voice!" exclaimed Meg. "What about the Opera ghost?"
"We saw him," Jammes repeated. "A shadow in Box Five on the grand tier."
"What Opera ghost?" asked Jeanette, eyes wide in curiosity.
Jammes gave a start and seemed to notice Jeanette for the first time.
Meg sighed. "According to less-than-reliable workmen of the Opera, there is a Phantom that haunts the Opera house, who appears in the form of a man in dress clothes and a mask," she explained.
"A white half-mask that glows in the dark light a ghastly lantern!" piped Jammes, glancing about herself fearfully.
"They say that Box Five on the grand tier is the Phantom's private Box," continued Meg, "so it's never sold at the box-office for performances. And he uses trapdoors to get from place-to-place, so he isn't seen. And," she added, as an afterthought, "he makes the manager pay him a salary."
"A salary!" exclaimed Jeanette. "What does a ghost need a salary for?"
"Because," said Jammes, "if M. Lefevre doesn't pay the Opera ghost his salary, terrible things happen!"
All three girls jumped at a sudden loud crash of thunder. Jeanette frowned. The sky had been clear when she'd arrived that afternoon.
"The Phantom of the Opera is just a legend told to frighten us," Meg insisted. "And the shadow you saw in Box Five was just that—a shadow."
"But Adelaide swears she saw the mask!"
"Jammes, you know better than to listen to Adelaide."
There was another boom of thunder. A flash of lightning lit up the room. Various colors from the small stained-glass windows were cast eerily on the walls and beds, before the dormitory was returned to the flickering light of the candles.
"What did you and Sophie and Adelaide do after seeing the shadow in Box Five?" Jeanette inquired.
Jammes glanced at her quickly before responding. "Well, I ran straight to you, Meg," she said. "Sophie went to Mme. Giry, and Adelaide told…well, everyone else. The dancers were in such a frenzy after that, rehearsals had to end early."
Meg shook her head disbelievingly. "All because of a silly shadow! But why, if rehearsals ended early, are the rest of the dancers not here?"
"They all went elsewhere," Jammes replied. "Sorelli took a group to go investigate Box Five. Others went to the chapel, to pray. The rest went up to the higher levels."
More thunder and lightning; the room was once again transformed into an ethereal kaleidoscope of color.
Now Meg turned to Jeanette. "Well, I suppose now would be a good time to show you around the Opera house," the blonde girl suggested.
So Meg and Jammes led Jeanette through the wide halls and dark passageways, around the balconies of the foyer, to the stage, and then up among the rafters above the stage, where all the ropes and masts and pulleys gave her the impression of crossing the worn wooden planks of a ship's deck. After that, they decided to venture up to the roof, where they were met with dismal gray clouds and a light drizzle.
Back on the ground floor, Jeanette was shown the stables and the—now empty—Gothic chapel on the southern end of the building. Meg and Jammes were careful to stray from the trapdoors and all entrances to the lower levels. Amazingly, they came across none of the other dancers, and guessed that they had all made it back to the dormitories. So that was where the three girls went, the tour at an end.
Jeanette was delighted with every aspect of the Paris Opera House; but even so, she could not ignore the sound of soft footfalls that seemed to follow them from within the walls themselves.
That was the first chapter. I myself am rather proud of it. FEEDBACK, PLZ!! =) YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO! *puppy-dog face* Come on...do it for Erik.