Once More, Solitude
By: L. A. Lutz
"Lydia! Wake up you rat!" Madame Susanna yelled.
My feet sprang into action immediately. My hands ran over my skirt to straighten it out, and when I looked up a long-nailed hand slapped my face hard. Ow!
"You slept in again, and because of your laziness, I had no one to bring me my morning tea!" she blasted.
My head lowered in shame of my foolishness. Silently I walked away with my gaze to the floor. It was time for my chores to begin.
"You're late…" Monsieur Aiden hated it when I was late for anything. He was a very precise man. His blonde hair was perfectly parted and his mustache evenly curled on either side. Green eyes stared through me and into my thoughts where they probed for information.
Right when I imagined that he'd enter my soul, my guardian, Elizabeth Noir rescued me. "It's alright darling," she looked at M. Aiden. "We had a long night. The rehearsals went over time because Madame Susanna was having some difficulties." She patted my shoulder and sent me off.
Elizabeth was a highly respected woman in the opera house. When she was young she was a famous dancer that everyone wanted to see. Around the age of 25 she decided that she didn't wish to perform anymore, but instead of leaving the house completely, she became a mere maid. Occasionally, she helps out with the training of the other ballerinas, but she never asks for a cent.
For 20 years she has taken refuge here, and I would like it no other way. I recall when I was young that I would braid her extremely long, black hair. Even though it looked ghastly, she would simply smile and stare at me with loving, brown eyes. She was my adopted mother, and I, her adopted daughter.
With supplies in hand, I made my way towards the girls' dormitories where a dirty floor awaited me mockingly. My usual routine consisted of the following: taking the bed sheets to the laundresses, reapplying the sheets, scrubbing the floors, helping with stage washing, and doing whatever else needed to be done.
A nineteen year old girl with golden hair tied up in a bandana, approached me minutes after I began gathering bed spreads. A pair of forest-green eyes smiled at me from a naturally, creamy colored face. It was Sophie, a fellow maid. She emptied chamber pots most of the time: poor girl.
I was one of the few people who knew about Sophie's past as a whore. It wasn't of her choice, mind you. No, she was sold by her cruel uncle to a little brothel in a near-by city. From the ages of 7 to 13 she served men.
One night, Monsieur Aiden visited the pleasure house and found Sophie. He took it upon himself to bring her here, in exchange of her…services. He became bored with her quickly though, but allowed her to stay all the same.
I was brought back from my thoughts when she spoke. "Samuel wants to know if you'll be cleaning the stage anytime soon. He should be downright ashamed of it too! Why, you are the hardest worker here, and he doesn't appreciate that." She brought her eyebrows to a meeting point with disgust.
"Don't be silly, I am not the hardest worker here," a sigh escaped my chapped lips. "Tell Samuel that I shall help him in an hour or so."
Sophie roller her eyes, "You shouldn't grant him such a pleasure. You really deserve better." With that, she walked away.
As I mopped the stage, my mind went on an adventure. It contemplated how I wished so greatly to be amongst the singers and ballet dancers; even if I was an understudy. There was a someday out there for me, I just had to keep believing that it would find me…soon.
My past came to mind not too long after. I had lived in the opera house ever since I was four years of age. You see, my parents died from some sort of stomach disease. After my mother passed on, my father followed, and I was left to wander the streets. After five long days, a teenage boy found me.
He was taller than I by far. I almost fell backwards peering up at him, so he kneeled before me. Upon his face was a porcelain, black mask; it covered all but his lips. Behind it, two astonishingly silver eyes stared at me curiously. Raven black hair was tied in a ribbon behind his head.
A silky voice asked, "What are you doing out here alone? Have you lost sight of your family?"
My little head shook violently from side to side. "She's sleeping, but she won't wake up this time. She's gone to our Lord." My father whispered that to me before he breathed his last breath. Of course, I was too young to understand the concept.
"What's your name? How old are you?
"My name is Lydia Miller and I am four."
The boy's eyes filled with sadness. "Oh…Have you nowhere to go?"
Again, I shook my head.
"Hmmm," he scratched his neck. "Come with me." His strong arms held me close to him as he walked up many stairs.
At the top he set my frail body down and told me to stay put. He knocked the large wooden doors of what I thought was a palace. Suddenly, a young woman wearing a sparkling pink skirt came to the door. She appeared shocked and almost frightened, but just stood, frozen. Her and the stranger talked briefly, nodded, and then grinned at me.
"This is Ms. Elizabeth and she's going to take care of you from now one. Be good, alright?" His thumb rubbed my plump cheek and then he was gone.
That's how I came to be at the Julian Opera House. It wasn't the biggest, nor the grandest, but I thought it was beautiful. It was a medium-sized stone residence with a short staircase leading to its wooden doors. (The doors themselves were exquisite with their rose carvings and alluring appearance.) Once inside there was a grand staircase that led to the upper row of seats towering the stage. To the left and down some steps was the entrance to the many layers of dormitories and prop rooms. The theatre itself only held about three hundred guests, so it was rather small. The backstage was strangely roomy though.
Finally my chores were finished and I resigned to bed. Upstairs I could hear rehearsals going on. Everyone sounded marvelous. I closed my eyes and pictured myself joining them, but I was rudely disturbed by a screeching noise. It was Madame Susanna singing her solo.
She was no longer in her prime, to put it nicely. Sadly, her mind disagreed and thus she thought she could make her voice soar higher.
Is there really any way to describe her to you? No one knew where she was from. She just showed up one day and became the lead soprano. That was six seasons ago! How she stayed so long, I do not know. She must have been in her fifties at least, and most singers were released in their thirties. Her hair: short, black, and curly. Dull brown eyes peeked out from behind some loose curls most of the time. Conceited; that's a great word to describe her.
A thunderous crashing sound abruptly echoed throughout the theatre. My heart leaped into my throat, and before I knew what I was doing, my feet carried me to the scene of the crime.
A few sandbags were encircling Susanna. The rope that once attached them the sets were cut clean at the tip.
Sophie ran up to me. "Lydia! Someone has just now tried to kill our lead soprano. I, myself, don't think she sounds that good, but murder? Who would attempt such a thing?"
My shoulders lifted and fell silently.
"It's that demon specter, I tell ya. He's been haunting this place for years. I've seen 'em, I have! His eyes are white and the rest of him is but a shadow. He messes with backgrounds that he don't like, and now he's doing the same with the cast!" Samuel barked from the left wing.
My eyes rolled. "Samuel, that's just silly! We always hear you go on and on about this 'demon specter'. How do we know that it just isn't you trying to give us all nightmares? Besides, even if there is such a thing, do you think it wise to talk badly about him constantly?"
His blue eyes narrowed and he brushed a strand of gray hair from his round face. "If I were you lassie, I'd keep my trap closed, or he won't be the only one trying to kill people…"
I stepped back in alarm.
From behind a set, Elizabeth came forward. She motioned for our managers to join her. They whispered for about twenty-minutes. Finally, the managers' arms flew this way and that.
"Lydia? Yes, you. You will be singing the lullaby from Act 1, Scene iii. Mary will fit you for your costume tomorrow," Monsieur Michael, the other manager, stated.
My eyes widened. I hadn't had voice training, so how could I sing in front of hundreds? All I had was my natural voice, though not unpleasant, it was not as strong as the true opera singer's voice should be. At least it was only one song…
Madame Susanna's face turned a fiery red as she glared at me. "She WILL NOT sing in my opera! I am the star and I sing that song too!"
"Hold your tongue! You will sing plenty. It's the only song and scene for that character. Thus, the 'Prince's Lullaby' is only a minor song," Monsieur Aiden stated.
"Hmph!" was her only reply. She stomped away, acting exactly like the diva she was.
Ten days. That's how long I had to learn my song. Nervous? We won't even go there. Somehow though, I learned the song and it sounded almost beautiful. My hands trembled as Elizabeth urged me onto the stage for my solo.
It was awkward for me. Not because in the scene I was holding a doll, pretending it was the prince, but because it felt like the audience could see through my façade. As if the glossy, lavender dress I wore, didn't hide the fact that I was only a servant.
The maestro nodded at me and conducted the orchestra into a hypnotic melody. My mouth opened and to my surprise, a voice… Not just any voice, but a voice filled with confidence. My eyes shifted towards the doll and I sang:
Close your eyes, my little dreamer
Close your eyes, my little boy
The moon, is glowing brightly
The stars, are smiling on you
Close your eyes, and listen closely
The owl has come to fid farewell
Close your eyes, and breathe in softly
And join now, with the midnight sighs…
Though my voice was delicate, it resounded throughout the room quite nicely. To my disappointment, something was holding me back from letting it soar into the heavens.
When my song ended the audience remained dead-silent. My worst nightmare was coming true; they hated me. Suddenly, the sound of applause rang out. Heat flooded my face and my lips pulled back to show a toothy grin. There are no words to describe how victorious I felt at that moment.
"My gosh, Lydia! I had no idea you could sing." Sophie hugged me tightly. "It was amazing."
"Trust me, I didn't know I could sing like that either. Would you like to catch some fresh air with me?"
"Of course."
We hadn't gone very far, when we heard come clanging noise, and what sounded like a muffled scream. My finger hit my lips to show Sophie that something was wrong.
"If you ever insult, hurt, or threaten Lydia again, I'll happily cut off your hold hand…or worse!" a male's voice growled.
Samuel's strained voice responded, "You cut off three of my bloody fingers, you-" I have an idea about what he said, but Sophie took it upon herself to cover my ears.
The other male snickered, "You are a good observer. True, your fingers are bloody. You might want to have those looked at." Silence ensued.
My friend and I rushed to Samuel's aid and escorted him to Madame Elizabeth, so that the matter could be dealt with quietly.
"Sophie, I'm scared," fear swelled within me. "He got his fingers cut off on account of me!"
"It'll be ok, I promise. It's almost curtain call and the moment the audience leaves it will be very hectic here. Someone is bound to find out and cause a big commotion. It would be best if you hide somewhere. That way, if anyone decides to question you, it will be in the morning after you have collected your thoughts and slept."
Following curtain call, and after changing back into my servant dress, I fled to the roof of the opera house. There were statues of gargoyles stationed at every corner. The air was cool and damp; the typical summer night. My eyes shut and the night air swept through my chestnut-brown hair and circled about me playfully. There was only a slither of the moon out, but the stars shone bright.
"What are you doing out here in the cold?" a soft, male voice inquired.
My head turned to the side. "Just getting some fresh air."
"I see… May I say that you were wonderful tonight? The angels were surely smiling upon hearing you."
"Well I don't know about that." My whole body turned around now, and what I saw sent tremors up my spine.
A man around six-three, wearing a long black cloak with yellow interior was smiling at me. He was wearing a willowy, white shirt with open cuffs, and black pants that disappeared into tall black boots. He looks like an artist for sure! The peculiar thing about him was that his face was painted. White paint covered his whole face like a mask, and blood red, upside-down triangles were placed under each eye. Shoulder-length, black hair was being whisked in the breeze.
"Wh-who are you?" my wimpy voice trembled.
His eyes-which were too far away for me to determine what color they were- averted towards the sky. "I don't know who I am honestly. I call myself the Master of Solitude, but you may simply call me Solitude."
Trying to be polite, I offered my hand, "Nice to meet you Solitude. I think that that is a delightful name. It's very unique too. My name is Lydia Miller, but I suppose that you already know that…"
Solitude chuckled, "Yes, but it's nice to be introduced all the same." His warm, long-fingered hand held mine with delicacy. His eyes were a silver-blue color, almost like the moon. My own eyes couldn't stray from them. They pierced my soul and showed me such a great misery that my throat constricted.
"What's wrong? Do you think that I intend you harm? I vow that such a thought has not and will never enter my mind." He brushed my cheek with his thumb. His touch felt familiar, but I could not place it.
"Oh no! I wasn't thinking anything like that!" my mouth fumbled for the right words.
"I understand that you don't have a voice instructor. I have been around music most of my life and I would be honored to teach you for free. It seems to me that you have great potential, but that you don't fully trust yourself. With my help, you could be better than you've ever imagined."
My heart beat against my ribs. "I'd love to have a voice instructor, Monsieur! It has been my dream to sing on stage since I was a little girl. I am but a servant girl right now…"
"I have no doubt that every theatre I in the world will want you after we're through. I want you to come with me, but first, you must promise never to speak of where I live. I have my reasons of wanting secrecy. I realize that you may think I am a madman, but you'll just have to trust that I'm not."
Darn my curiosity and eagerness to perform! If I get raped and killed, it's all of my fault.
"If you are as great as you say, I'd want secrecy too. So yes, I promise to tell no one."
"I think it would be best if you wore my cloak and put the hood up. People down there are whispering your name, and I don't want us to be bombarded. Also, I will have to carry you."
I looked down at myself and pondered. I may not be fat, but I am not thin either. I am simply big-boned. I prefer to think of myself as fluffy…My mind is wandering. Back to the issue! He doesn't appear to be weak, but what would happen if he couldn't pick me up! How mortifying!
"If you can pick me up, then be my guest."
To my shock he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing. I placed the hood on my head and held on tight as he strode away. I decided to close my eyes and take in everything that had happened.
*************************************
My sleepy eyes opened and I realized that I was on a red couch. I fell asleep! Wait a minute, where am I?! My back straightened as my body set upright. I was in a living room. There was a big bookcase against a nearby wall, several chairs, doors, a coffee table, and a large bear-skin rug. Several candelabras hung on the white walls. The sunlight reflected off of their gold-plated stands and cast a light on the black carpeted floor.
"Sleeping Beauty has awakened. And how are you this fine morning?" Solitude was leaning against a wall.
"I'm so sorry! I feel like I'm intruding. Wait, did you say 'morning'? Oh no! I'm late! The managers will fire me!" I attempted to get off the couch, but ended up on my face.
Solitude started laughing hysterically. He was soon at my side helping me up. "Actually, the managers and I have come to an agreement. Your options consist of the following: you can study here and work at night; you can work in the morning and study here at night; or…Or you could marry me and not have to work at all!"
I may be of age to marry, but to marry a complete stranger? Never.
"Well, I-I-I definitely can't marry you. I mean, I hardly know you, and besides I'm only 15, and I must focus on my career. I'll study here at night and work in the day, if that's ok," I chose my words carefully.
He sighed, "That is completely understandable. Anyways, you are off work today. You may go back home if you'd like, or you could come to the park with me and get some ice cream."
My smile faded as soon as it came. "I really want to go to the park, but… Well, I have nothing to wear but this dress…I'm afraid that I'll be an embarrassment."
He put his reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You wouldn't be an embarrassment at all, but if it bothers you, you can borrow one of my mother's dresses. Before she passed on, she told me to keep her clothes for some reason. Her dresses may be a bit big for you, but still. Blue, pink, or yellow?"
My toothy grin returned, "How about…blue?"
He nodded and came back with a white dress that had blue ruffles all over it. After handing it to me, he also gave me a blue bonnet and umbrella. They were gorgeous! I'd never even held such expensive clothing before. The costumes at the opera do not count for me.
"Thank you. Where might I dress?" my stomach was dancing in exhilaration.
Solitude led into a huge bedroom and shut the door behind me. The walls were a deep plum color and the carpet -like the living room- was black. Straight ahead, a four-poster, king-sized bed set. Scarlet sheets concealed it nicely.
Upon my return, Solitude turned and his jaw fell open, but he quickly recomposed himself. "You look quite dashing. That color brings out your emerald eyes. A carriage is awaiting us outside." He hooked his arm and bowed his head, "Shall we?"
My left arm intertwined into his and we were off. I did not think to glance at the house once outside, strangely enough.
It was pretty day outside and the trees in the park were in full bloom. Birds of all sorts sang and butterflies flew around the flowers. Only a few elderly people were out enjoying the day with us. A few people became alarmed at the sight of us, but no one said a word. Why are they staring at us? Oh right. I forgot that Solitude had applied fresh paint to his face this morning…
"So, do you play any instruments?" A bit of ice cream tipped my nose.
Solitude glanced down at me, then, pulling out a handkerchief said, "Actually, I do. I play the piano, violin, and on rare occasions, the flute." He wiped the ice cream off and my cheeks turned rosy.
"Maybe I'll get to witness this rare event. When my voice is perfect to your ears, will you play the flute for me?"
"Alright. You are a clever mademoiselle, aren't you?"
Giggles erupted from within me. This happiness that I had never known frightened me. What if it left me in the dark gloom, soon after bringing sunlight to me?