This is a very long chapter, but hopefully you'll enjoy!
Ch 2
The town buzzed with gossip and excitement as the long-abandoned Rochester Theatre had life breathed into it once more. Many wondered why on earth two men would ever invest their wealth in the performing arts of such a small town, but with a larger city not three hours away, the theatre would certainly draw travelers and nearby residents if it suceeded. As difficult as it was to imagine that it would ever be good enough to reimburse the owners of its running costs, the townspeople were at least hopeful that there would be something to entertain them for a short while.
The formerly-quarantined exterior of the building had its boards removed from the windows, glass replaced, and a fresh coat of ivory-colored paint, causing passersby to marvel at the elegant chandeliers that could be seen from the windows.
For many months, Mr. Levour and Mr. Destler had had skilled laborers and workers not only clean all of the dust and cobwebs inside, but also saw that the statues that could be repaired were, decorative accents were replaced, and even laid down a brilliant soft pink marble floor.
Erik had insisted that gold foiled leaves and roses be placed on all of the staircase railings and had chosen a lovely gold brocade wallpaper; Mr. Levour was grateful that his partner had such luxurious and wonderful taste, as the theatre now seemed to be a palace that one could step into and forget about the world.
While the renovation had been accomplished, they found themselves sorely lacking in finding a proper cast, as well as the musicians who would play in the orchestra. Remodeling had finished after six months, yet they had held auditions and searched for talent for nearly four months more. Erik, although not depleted of finances, had begun to lose his patience. He would never be able to see his masterpieces performed and his dream executed as reality if they could not find the talent required.
"We must raise the bid for salaries," he concluded.
Mr. Levour, who was seated in a nearby crimson velvet chair in the auditorium, sighed in exasperation as he rifled through the papers in his lap. Before the pair stood the large stage in which they had just concluded another day's worth of auditions for the lead role, unsuccessfully.
Erik turned his head slightly to glance upon all of the empty seats behind their row with sadness. How long he had waited for the day when they would be filled with an audience who yearned to hear his work!
"I daresay that this is tiring, indeed. But if we offer a larger sum, why that is simply unheard of in a small theatre such as ours! We cannot rival the pay of a large and successful business, let alone in the performing arts, when we are just opening," Mr. Levour replied.
Erik turned back to him to see the worry written on his features. Had Mr. Levour been a passionate man, Erik would have been somewhat relieved to see that his business partner cared so much about the welfare of the Opera theatre. But he knew this not to be the case, for Mr. Levour was simply concerned that his investment would not return and that he had lost a large sum of money.
"We raise the prices for the roles, travel to a few nearby towns to hold auditions, and we should be able to open before the year's end," Erik determined.
"I hope you know what you are doing," Mr. Levour said.
Erik's plan had worked, and before a few more months had passed, they were able to secure not only enough cast members, but also their entire orchestra. Mr. Levour had convinced the consulting conductor of Erik's work-an older man who lived an hour away-to join them, as well as an oustanding violinist. Even the male lead had gained Erik's approval-an Italian man by the name of Giovanni who was in his late thirties and donned a thick black moustache.
One day, Mr. Levour and Mr. Destler were seated in their usual spots as they dismissed yet another woman from the stage. They were growing exhausted from their efforts of finding the lead.
Erik noticed a young woman with blonde hair pinned high upon her head standing in the doorway, and Mr. Levour also turned to look.
"I suppose I should handle this," he said. Erik watched him leave his seat to attend to the inquiring lady, and he could faintly overhear the conversation.
"Ah, good day, Ms. Thornfield! What can I assist you with? Have you come for a tour of the place? It is such a grand theatre, but it is not open to the public at this moment. What with the lack of a proper lead. But perhaps we could make an exception for you-"
"Yes, this theatre is quite extraordinary, which is why I simply had to pay a visit when I saw the advertisement on the door," she replied with a smile.
"Well, I suppose that we could conclude the auditions for today, as they weren't too fruitful, anyway-"
"Mr. Levour, you have me mistaken. I wish to apply for the part," she tried to peek a glance at the dark figure sitting in the auditorium, but Erik had turned around and pretended not to notice her.
Mr. Levour's eyebrows slightly raised. "Oh, my apologies! It is just that I am certain that you have a lovely voice, but I would never have guessed that you would wish to join a theatre. Do come in!"
As she was ushered down the aisle, she pulled at the ivory-colored shawl that rested at her elbows and smiled with confidence.
Blanche Thornfield was the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Rochester, and with a large dowry it was an enigma as to why she was not yet married. It was certainly not for lack of suitors, for men were even known to have come from nearby towns to attempt to court her.
She had a selection of nearly any man of her choosing, yet she had not found one perfectly to her liking to be worth her time, besides; she enjoyed the attention and pursuit far too much to relinquish her freedom. Regardless, Mr. Levour knew her to be a bit vain and materialistic; certainly she did not appear to be a lover of the fine arts.
After she had been encouraged to take her place on the stage, her eyes settled on Erik as she determined to figure out his character.
"Is this the infamous composer? I see now why the town is bustling with gossip," she said. "I myself did not believe that there was a man dressed in a mask to conceal his identity, but I must admit that it adds a bit of mystery to this place that will pique the curiosity of everyone. Well done, gentlemen. You've seemed to have risen this theatre from the dead."
Erik thought about how fitting it would have been had he worn his skull mask instead of the black velvet one that covered the majority of his face. While he had been very tempted to wear his red death attire, he knew that it might frighten away potential customers, and so he had settled upon wearing an extravagant gold silk vest, white cravat, and black suit. With his dark hair sleeked back, one might say that he looked the vision of Don Juan, had they seen his last-performed opera.
Dressed in a light pink satin gown that starkly contrasted the iciness of her blue eyes, Blanche's gaze moved back to Mr. Levour, though she wished that they could linger on Mr. Destler, for he had a mysterious attraction about him-from what she could see that was not hidden by the mask, the strong jawline and full lips, he seemed very handsome. But she knew from experience that the successful way to gain a man's attention was to feign ignorance.
"Yes, well it can't hurt to keep a bit of mystery alive in a place such as this. Which excerpt will you be singing for us, today?"
Blanche smiled and Erik watched her silently. She was most certainly one of the most beautiful women that he had seen-soft pink lips, tight curls framing her face, and slight dimples when she smiled. He knew it foolish, but he could not help but to stare at her.
"The final act of Desole," she responded.
Erik was slightly-and pleasantly-surprised by her choice of material. Certainly she was no simple-minded girl to have such fine taste in operas, and this left him hopeful.
As soon as she had sung the first few words, Mr. Levour's eyes widened and he knew that they had finally chanced upon a bit of good fortune. He turned to his partner as the song continued beautifully to see that Mr. Destler's emotions remained hidden-he was ever so good at keeping a calm and unmoved facade.
"I think she might be the one!" Mr. Levour whispered enthusiastically to him.
Erik said nothing and his eyes never left Ms. Thornfield. Once she had finished and awaited their responses, he touched his chin in thought.
She most certainly was very promising; her voice was both soothing and angelic, but due to the fact that Erik was a musical genius, he had caught the hints of misused notes that were spotted here and there.
"She will need a teacher," he stated.
Mr. Levour's mouth hung agape. "The first thing you say upon hearing such an exquisite voice after so long of searching is that she needs a teacher? My god, Mr. Destler, you surprise me! I know that this is your area of expertise, but surely we are not going to let her go?"
"My voice was not to your liking, Mr. Destler?" Blanche asked, raising a delicate eyebrow at him.
Something about her was bewitching, and he could imagine that many a young men would fawn and cater to her desires in order to gain even a few seconds of her attention. The thought of displeasing her was probably their biggest fears, for who could ever say 'no' to such beauty?
"You are both mistaken, for even the most accomplished of leads must still practice and learn," Erik replied.
He was reminded of his years teaching Christine, tuning the fine instrument that was her voice. How he had enjoyed watching her fall under his musical spell, the wideness of her eyes and shortness of breath whenever he should sing for her.
No, he would not make that mistake again. Someone else would need to teach Ms. Thornfield.
"Does your father approve of your pursuits?" Erik asked, hoping that there would be another way to teach her, even if someone inferior to his knowledge of music must do it.
Blanche chuckled, "Oh, Papa does not have it in him to deny me. I am his only daughter, you know."
Erik nodded. "We have already spent a great deal of time securing the cast and the male lead, as well as his teacher. You must forgive me for saying that we might not be able to secure a private tutor for you before the year's end in order to reopen in three months. If you do not mind studying by the same man as Signore Giovanni until we can obtain a female-"
"Mr. Destler, being in the presence of a man has never intimidated me," she said with a devilish smile.
"By god, Mr. Destler, we did it!"
Mr. Levour took a sip of brandy while Erik swirled around the amber liquid in his glass and could not help but smile.
The two had advertised the theatre's opening night for three months, and there only remained two days until it happened. They had even arranged for a ball to be held at the theatre in celebration. It would be the first time in which Erik would appear to the public-with mask, of course-and the thought left him a bit unsettled. Thus far, no one had questioned his choice of attire, in fact; nearly every person had enjoyed the idea of an anonymous composer. It truly fed their wild imaginations as to why he chose such an artistic way to express himself.
Erik set his glass down on the large desk before him and looked around at the shelves of books that he had grown so accustomed to seeing. He chuckled inwardly at the thought of how, one year ago, they had warned him of setting foot in Mr. Levour's estate. How thankful he was that he had given his business partner a chance, for now he found himself approaching the dawn of a new life.
"I'm afraid that I must end this evening early," he stated.
"My friend, the small hand has barely reached the hour of six!" Mr. Levour motioned toward the clock on the wall. "Surely you can stay for a game of cards?"
Erik stood up and straightened his ivory cravat. "As tempting a suggestion it may be, there are a few things that I must attend to before the big night."
Mr. Levour was a bit disappointed but agreed that they would be busy in preparation. Erik saw himself out.
Once the large door had closed behind him, he was greeted by the fresh summer air. The sun had begun its descent, but there was still enough light about to not require a lantern. Erik took the time to enjoy the fine weather as he prepared to make the journey down the long and winding path from the house.
He had often ordered for his carriage to await him further away so that he could spend a little more time in nature and exercise his legs. Besides, this was the first year of his life in which he did not have to hide in darkness, and he found that he quite loved the daylight.
Not ten steps had been taken when he caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye. A dark green cloaked figure was sneaking about near the side of the house, slowly inching closer to a window.
Perhaps it was a thief hoping to relieve the Levour estate of some of its possessions. Or perhaps someone has discovered my identity and has come to finish me off, he thought bitterly. The suggestion struck him as odd, for he was certain that if someone had known about him, there would be an angry mob coming for his demise, instead.
With brows furrowed, Erik made certain not to make a sound when approaching the figure so as not to scare it away. He would be caught dead before allowing anyone to meddle in his affairs.
Erik closed the gap betweent the two of them slowly, as a predator stalking its prey. When he was only inches away, he grabbed the person from behind and smothered the mouth with his gloved hand, eliciting a faint and high-pitched gasp.
"Did you really think that you could escape my notice?" he seethed quietly. He spun the person around to see a young man gazing up at him in fear. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" he shook him.
After he had received no answer, his temper began to flare. He may have been the Opera Ghost no longer, but that would not hinder him from acting the same. "Answer me or you shall suffer the consequences!"
He shook the cowering body in his grasp so violently that the man's head whipped toward him and he noticed the peculiar shade of green his eyes were. They seemed so familiar.
"I-I am visiting someone," he insisted. "I mean no harm, please, don't tell anyone!"
Noting the lightness in his voice, Erik guessed him to be younger than he appeared to be, and it was then that the realization of another possibility hit him. Perhaps he was one of Levour's daughter's secret beau? If so, then it was not a detail that Erik was particularly interested in, however; he thought of ways in which he could use this information to his advantage. Was there something to be gained by this knowledge?
He had finally drawn a pleasing conclusion of what he would do, when he noticed something unsettling about this boy's features. A few miniscule strands of red hair peered through, unruly, the mass of dark brown atop his head. Those green eyes...it couldn't be!
Without warning, Erik grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled off the wig to reveal smoothed back auburn tresses and a shocked expression. Every wave of her long hair had been meticulously smothered down until the ends had been crushed and pinned painfully to her head.
"How did you...?" no longer did Cora Levour speak in a masculine voice, instead her feminine tones reassured him of his accusations.
Erik studied the realness of her facade; the thick, bushy eyebrows of a different color than her naturally-thin and arched red ones, the facial hair placed carefully so as not to arouse suspicion as they gave the masculine appearance of being well-groomed with a few stragglers for naturalness, the fullness of her cheeks, fat and plump, to distinguish them from her typically-slender features. Even the bulbous nose was so different than her petite and slim one.
Where could she have learned such talent? How he had always thought of himself as a professional of disguise and concealment, but this-this was truly outstanding!
"Tell me how you have done this," he demanded, his anger transformed into an insatiable curiosity as his eyes continued to rove about her faux features.
Cora ignored his prying questions and his grasp on her had softened, though he continued to keep her in place.
"I am not accountable to you for the way that I live my life. Now, if you would kindly release me then I shall be on my way!"
Erik pulled her closer until he could see that she was uncomfortable. "Such fire in your spirit! To match the natural color of your locks," he brushed away a loose strand from her cheek and watched her cringe from the contact. "How I shall tame that spirit of yours until I have what I want..."
He smiled a devilish grin when he saw the flicker of fear across her hardened features, even if for just a moment before she had resumed her brevity. How pleased he was to know that he could use intimidation for her to obey his requests. It awakened something within him that he had not felt since his days haunting Paris.
"You will get nothing from me!"
"Is that so?" he challenged. "Would you prefer to find out what I am capable of?"
"If you feel that you can threaten me into taking my honor, then you are mistaken!" she spat. It seemed that the fear she had was once again replaced by a stubborn resistance and determination.
"That is not what I want from you..."
No, for as much as he wanted to know the love of a woman, it was too terrible an idea for a monster with his face to inflict upon anyone. He would have to live without, though she still might be of some use to him, perhaps even alter his life greatly. He thought of everything that he could do, what freedoms and pleasures he could enjoy, if he had the secret of her techniques of disguise for himself.
"I want you to teach me how you managed to accomplish this," he added.
"If you only wish to use my talent for something unlawful, then I will not assist you," she said. The fire could still be seen in her green eyes.
He released his hold on her but kept a fistful of her cloak in his gloved hand so that she could not escape. She stood in place and straightened her posture, refusing to allow him the pleasure of affecting her.
"What I do with these techniques is not of your concern. But I must ask," he pulled her closer to whisper into her ear, "why would a woman be dressed as a man, and what would your father think of this?"
He received the precise reaction that he was hoping for-her eyes held a mixture of fear and anger in them. Before she could refuse, he withdrew a calling card from his pocket and gingerly tucked it into her costume. He gave a swift pat and warned, "If you wish to remain undiscovered, then I suggest that you arrive at this address tomorrow at half past two in the afternoon in order to discuss this talent of yours."
He released his grip on her, but not before adding, "If I were you, I would not chance crossing me."
