Chapter 2
"So, what brings you to my kingdom?"
Erik smiled at Labreau, shaking his hand. "Lucia. She was bored and demanded I bring her here for a visit. Meg let it slip that you are holding auditions for Don Giovanni. Lucia thinks that you need her expertise in selecting the cast."
Both men laughed at they walked to the side of the stage where Lucia waited, looking wistfully out at the empty rows of seats. She smiled Meg's impish smile as she approached Labreau with all the self possession of a 30 year old diva.
"How have the auditions gone," she asked Labreau.
As he always did with her mother, he bent down to kiss her cheeks. "No one is quite as good as you, of course. You need to hurry and grow up so you can star in all our productions."
"I'm trying, but time is moving so slowly," she sighed.
"Don't be in a rush to grow up yet," Erik said, smiling down at her. "I'm not ready for you to leave me and your mother."
"I'll be attending the Ursuline Academy next month," she reminded him.
Erik's smile faded out as Labreau gave him a look of sympathy. Thanks to Antoinette, he was made privy to the details of the fight between Erik and Meg over Lucia's education. Days of cold silences punctuated by rounds of raised voices. Of course, Erik surrendered and Meg won the fight. He did understand her desire for Lucia to have a better education, but he sympathized with Erik's struggle in letting her go. It couldn't have been easy for either of them.
The sound of light footsteps echoed behind him. From the corner of his eye he thought it was Meg coming to meet them. But, the source of the light, quick steps surprised him.
"Are you Monsieur Labreau?"
Her blonde hair was coiled into an elegant chignon at the base of her slender neck. The wide set green eyes were set in a perfect heart shaped face. Full lips parted to reveal an almost perfect set of pearl like teeth as she smiled at him. In her slender hand was a roll of sheet music.
"Yes," he laughed. "For a moment I mistook you for someone I knew." He glanced at Erik and found him staring at the new arrival with the same curious amazement.
Her laughter was like a soft touch, as she looked at both he and Erik. "I am here to audition for the role of Doña Anna. Or am I too late?"
"Not at all," Labreau said, gesturing towards the stage. "I have seen many potential Doña Annas today, and none have impressed."
As she passed, Erik tried not to stare. Lucia watched her, small mouth slightly ajar as the lady gave her a smile in passing. As Labreau led her to the head of the stage, Lucia whispered, "She does look like Mama."
"Not as beautiful, of course," Erik whispered back. Secretly, he knew his words were a white lie. No one would ever be as beautiful to him as Meg, but he felt an attraction to the new arrival. It wasn't just her striking resemblance to his wife, but something about the way she moved. There was an easy and sensual grace to her every step. It was in the sound of her laughter and the way she looked at him. The feelings he was experiencing were unsettling, he had to admit.
"What is your name Mademoiselle," Labreau asked. "I apologize for not asking sooner."
"Cassandra Moreau," She said handing him her sheet music. For a brief moment her eyes shifted over to Erik as Labreau unrolled her sheet music. Giving him a discreet smile, her eyes wandered back to Labreau.
He grunted in approval as he looked over the sheet. "Zaide. Fine choice. Tell me. What training have you had?"
"I was a protégé of Mathilde Marchesi. She trained me from the age of 13 until two years ago."
"Impressive," Labreau acknowledged. "Why wouldn't you have remained in Paris, or joined a company in Europe?"
She lifted her slender shoulders, smiling prettily. "It's a long story. If you do select me for the role of Doña Anna, I promise to tell you all about it."
Labreau was disarmed. "I yield the stage to you Mademoiselle." He quickly handed the sheet music to Pierre, the violinist, and joined Erik and Lucia.
The sweet and wistful strains of Mozart filled the space as they waited for her to begin. What Erik heard struck him. An almost effortless and hauntingly pure soprano. The kind of voice he had not witnessed since that long ago night when he first heard the echo of Christine's voice from the Opéra's small chapel. It made him ache listening to her execute every note with such exquisite control. When she was done no one spoke. Erik heard Lucia sigh, and looked over at a stunned Labreau.
"Perfect. I can't_." Labreau hurried to her and shook her hand. "You are amazing. Better than any of our most seasoned performers."
She laughed. "Does this mean I have the role?"
"Yes," Labreau laughed as well. "Of course! Welcome to our company!"
Lucia followed Labreau, greeting the Opéra's new addition as if she herself were a member of the company. But, Erik remained in his place watching as she dipped down to be closer to Lucia. As they spoke, he noticed her watching him. Again, he felt that hit of attraction. But, the light touch of a hand on his back cut into the moment. He looked over his shoulder to find Meg waiting behind him. Her face was radiant from her practice, her long hair spilling down her back.
"I heard that you and Lucia were here," she said, her attention going to the stage. He noticed her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. "Who is that woman talking to Lucia?'
"Her? Labreau's new Doña Anna." He said no more.
Meg left him to greet her. As Erik watched their meeting, he was again struck by the resemblance between them. For a brief moment they both looked his way. As they did, he inclined his head and quickly backed out of view.
"I'm sorry."
The apology was whispered lightly across the pillows of their bed in the dark. It had been three weeks since their encounter in the carriage. The days following were filled with either arguments or silence. Those two words surprised him. Reaching across the bed to her, he found her hand and squeezed it.
"I am too."
She rolled onto her side, and moved closer to him. "The trip to Mexico is coming fast, and I didn't want to leave you without making things right."
"You want what's best for Lucia. I was being selfish. That is true," he confessed.
"I know you will miss her," she whispered. "If she isn't happy, we can always bring her back."
"She needs to be with other girls her age. It will teach her not to be so spoiled."
They both laughed, acknowledging without a word that their little girl was quickly growing entitled. She had never needed to share anything; toys, food, time, or their attention. Everything and everyone at Maison Azelée bent to her will.
Meg fell onto her back, their hands still clasped. "So what are your thoughts about Mademoiselle Moreau?"
The memory of her eyes and her voice sent the unsettling ripples of feeling through him. He tried to affect detachment. "She is talented. Labreau is pleased."
"Pleased? He's absolutely obsessed with her," Meg laughed. "Mama is irritated by it all. She said that this girl is all he talks about. They can't have dinner or do anything else without him mentioning her name."
"I'm not surprised. Antoinette is so used to him worshipping only her," Erik said. "Is she afraid that Mademoiselle Moreau has knocked her off her pedestal?"
"She tries to pretend she doesn't care, though she complains about it endlessly. Lucia is enchanted with her as well. She thinks that we could be sisters." There was no humor in Meg's voice then.
"There is a slight resemblance," Erik replied, carefully.
"I think you're not being honest," Meg said. "Even I was struck by how much we looked alike." She grew quiet for a moment. It was the kind of heavy silence that told him to expect more. "While we were talking I noticed her watching you."
Erik moved closer to her until their bodies touched. "Let's not talk about her anymore. Sleep now, mon amour."
"Look Papa," Lucia pointed to the vibrant poster displayed on an easel near the backstage doors. The background was a fiery crimson with a black carnival mask in the forefront. In large gold lettering scrolled across the top was Don Giovanni. It would premier in 4 weeks time. The premier would take place the day before Mardi Gras, and be followed by an old world style Opéra masquerade. Grand plans for certain, but Labreau was struggling. Meg told him that Labreau was desperately trying to fill the role of Don Ottavio. Their leading Tenor abruptly left a week before for Montréal because of the promise of more money. Labreau, of course, was undone. He proclaimed loudly that he himself would sing the role of Don Ottavio is needs be. Everyone quietly hoped that he wouldn't follow through with his threat. As usual, Lucia led Erik along until they were on the stage. She always took a moment to stand at the center and gaze out at the endless rows of seats. It was as if she were imagining her future. Smiling up at him, she began to sing the words to Dalla Sua Pace as deeply as she could manage reducing both of them to laughter.
"Why don't you sing it," she challenged him.
"No," he said, shaking his head.
"You've sang it to me before, remember? Please Papa."
"I don't sing in public, you know that," he gently reminded her.
"There is no one here," she argued, sweetly. "No one will hear you. Please."
"No."
"Please," she begged.
He looked around them. Both wings of the stage were empty. Most of the company, except for Meg and Antoinette were gone for the day. He looked down at her upturned and determined face. Like her mother, she knew that she would get anything she wanted from him with that face. Sighing, he began shaking his head.
"Alright. But, just a verse or two."
Smiling she stepped back, and sat on the boards to watch him. He removed his coat, and set it aside. Facing the empty house, he cshut his eyes, allowing the music to flow through his memory, guiding his voice from deep within.
Dalla sua pace
la mia dipende;
quel che a lei piace
vita mi rende...
The sound of his voice echoed and vibrated off the walls. One line turned into two and then another. He couldn't bring himself to stop. Singing out loud and on the stage was like flying. Carried along on the winds of the music in his memory he disappeared into the role of Don Ottavio, singing with passion of his love.
What grieves her wounds me to the heart. When she sighs, I sigh with her...
He thought of Meg and all they had come through in the last year together and beyond. The emotion of it all colored every word and note that poured out of him. When the final verse was sung and his mind was quiet, he felt himself dropped back into reality. He expected to hear nothing but the sound of Lucia's applause from her petite hands. Instead, her heard the sound of a woman's voice ring out behind him.
"Bravo!"
He looked over his shoulder and saw Cassandra Moreau with Lucia and Labreau. Feeling exposed, he hurried to grab up his coat and walked off stage without a backwards glance.
"Wait," he heard Cassandra call out as she hurried after him. "Monsieur De Laval, you were incredible."
"I was just singing for Lucia," he muttered.
She laid a hand on his arm, her golden green eyes pinned to his face. "You have to perform with me. Please."
"No," Erik siad, sharply. "I don't sing in public."
"You just did," Cassandra pressed. "You did and you were brilliant. Please do this for us." She looked over at Labreau, dropping her voice to a whisper. "If you don't, then he will have to sing with me. I can't have that. Please do this for me."
He tried not to look at her, but he failed. Labreau appeared with Lucia at his side. "I knew you sang well, but this was beyond what I expected mon ami. You know I need a Don Ottavio."
The last time he had taken the stage still haunted him. Yet, the chorus of pleas began chipping away at his resistance. His fear demanded he refuse. But, something else tugged at him. He felt the warm pressure of Cassandra Moreau's hand on his arm, and saw the hope in her beautiful eyes. When he looked down at Lucia, then at Labreau he found himself finally taking up the white flag.
"Very well," he sighed, meeting Cassandra's eyes again. "But, after premier night, never again. I will be permanently retired."
The smile she gave him was like the sun. "I can't wait to sing with you."
"What is going on here?"
They all turned to find Meg standing by. Cassandra dropped her hand from Erik's arm as Labreau hurried to fill her in.
"Your husband has saved me from embarrassing myself on opening night. He's going to be my Don Ottavio."
Meg's eyes went to Erik and then to Cassandra. "Oh is he? However did you convince him?"
"Mademoiselle Moreau is more persuasive than we knew," Labreau laughed. "Thank God. Now we can move into rehearsals." He hurried away like a fast moving storm towards his office.
Cassandra smiled in thanks at Erik as she followed in Labreau's wake. Her exit left them alone. The look in Meg's eyes was hard, and it demanded answers.
Lucia was finally asleep and the door to their bedroom was locked. Erik sat down to remove his riding boots as Meg stared at him from her vanity.
"Today was surprising." Her voice was thickly layered with irritation.
"Just say what you need to say," he shot back. "I don't care to spend the night playing this game."
She dropped her hair brush onto her vanity. "You tell me that you can't possibly go to Mexico City with me, yet you are suddenly starring in a production before hundreds of people the day before Mardi Gras! Oh yes, Cassandra Moreau must be far more persuasive than I am!"
"I didn't do it for her! I did it for Labreau," he said, kicking his boots aside.
"You lied to me," she said, yanking back the coverlet on their bed. "Admit it!"
"I didn't lie," he shouted. "The part is relatively small and once it's over I will never sing in public again. Labreau needed help. He is our friend!"
"I saw you and her," Meg spat.
"You saw us doing what? Talking out in the open with Labreau and our daughter standing nearby? How scandalous!"
"She had her hand on your arm and was looking at you with those cat eyes of hers! I could tell by the way you looked at her that she had you in the palm of her hand. Don't act like you are doing this purely out of friendship for Labreau!"
"Do you really want to do this now? Now, the night before you run off to Mexico for two weeks?" He began shedding his clothes, staring resentfully at her locked trunk by their door. "Should I not accompany you to the docks in the morning?"
"No need. After all, Labreau expects you at the Opéra tomorrow morning for rehearsals. Wouldn't want you to disappoint him or Mademoiselle Moreau." She turned off the gaslight. "Now come to bed."
He stood in the dark, burning. "I think I might sleep elsewhere tonight." He slipped his nightshirt over his head and grabbed his bed robe. "Distance from me seems to be what you want now. I won't withhold that from you."
"I don't know why you can't see how unfair this all is to me," she cried as he unlocked the door. He didn't bother to answer, and let the heavy door slam shut behind him.
When he woke in the morning, she was gone. There was no note or anything else left for him. He reined in his disappointment, and soothed himself with the fact that she would return. Perhaps by that time she would have moved past all of it. He hoped for that, in any case.
