May 19, 1899--

A date that will live on forever, because it was when this whole business began.
It had been a simple proposition at first. The Duke of Worcester was a powerful man, rich as all Hell, with a fondness for wine and a passion for the female gender. Satine was the greatest jewel the Moulin had ever known, a singer, dancer, and prostitute extraordinaire. It was a natural pairing, those two. A force of nature.
At least, that's the way Satine had it figured.
Because, unlike what Christian may have told you, Harry wasn't the man who set the whole thing up. No, not at all! I loved Harry, we all did. He was our father and saviour, the man who dragged us out of pubs and lodging houses, slapped some makeup on us, and turned us into the Diamond Dogs. He was a sweetheart, but the man, sad to say, was nearly helpless when it came to running the club we came to cherish as a haven from the outside world. He could be influenced, and was, by a Diamond, or a purse full of change, God save him. Satine though...Satine was another story.
She had all the angles figured from day one. The Duke had first been brought to our club by a group of friends, who promised him a few hours away from the cares of the world. The poor man needed it. From what I managed to glean from China Doll, the club's biggest gossip, he'd been struck down by a double calamity that would have killed any weaker man. Three months earlier, he'd lost both wife and child in a boating accident on the Seine that had nearly took his life as well. He'd spent weeks moping about his home, not speaking to anyone, when a few friends' had dragged him to our humble abode despite his protestations.
The first time I saw him, he was sitting in a dark corner, staring into his champagne, oblivious of his surroundings, of the music, of the half-naked women enticing him to dance. Satine, who at this time was still speaking to me, sidled up next to me with a slow smile on her face. Do you see that man, over there, Nini? she asked. Do you see him?
I nodded. Oui. Who is he?
The Duke of Worcester, she announced proudly. One of the richest men in France, and a recent widower. Look at him sitting all alone. He looks quite foolish.
Have a little pity, Satine, I argued. He's just lost his wife.
Satine laughed in my face. You great soft pudding, Nini! He's rich, Nini, very rich, and that's a wonderful thing for this club. In fact, there's no better thing that the Duchess could have done for us than to sink like a stone.
I-- Satine!
She turned on me then. Mademoiselle Satine to you! she barked, her eyes fierce. Never forget that, you little slut! Never!
Oui, Mademoiselle, I said humbly, watching as she strode off to the adoration of the crowds that fanned at her feet. As she stepped out onto the main floor, I noticed that the Duke looked up from his champagne, perhaps distracted by all the fanfare. For a moment, I thought I saw a change, like his face lit up for a moment, but it was only fleeting and the shadow quickly passed over his face again. But that one fleeting instant where he lost his troubles in the glow that was Satine...no, no, that sealed his fate. And Satine, that conniving little gold-digger, knew it.
The plan wasn't revealed to me until much later, and then only by accident. It had been a long night for me, and had decided to take a stroll around the grounds, just to wear myself out enough for sleep. I enjoyed walking the Moulin at night. I had been there since its opening ten years ago, since Harry had scoured the dance halls and bordellos for the best girls to grace his floor. It was an honour, being one of the first-picked, and I felt that I had as much claim to the Moulin as he did. It was an old friend, and the longest residence I had ever known. It was home, and I loved it.
My night wandering took me to the foot of the Elephant, the great behemoth of the yard that the star called her rooms. The door that normally led to the belly of the beast (and the belly of a dancer, although we didn't disclose that fact to the public), was shut tightly, but the lights were still on in the head. I paused under the trunk, looking up as I heard voices carried by the night breeze.
But, Harry, it's perfect! I could hear Satine protest, and I could imagine the well-practiced pout that spouted the words.
Sparrow...it just doesn't seem right. Surely there's another way to get the money... This was Harry talking, and from his voice I could tell that he'd had just as hard a night as myself. Show business is a young man's game, especially the rough and fast type that the Moulin offered, and although he never would admit it, the nightly stresses of organising and executing us all in our productions was beginning to wear him down. I suppose this is how he fell so swiftly into Satine's claws, painted as they may have been. Business is...
Excruciatingly slow! Satine cried in anguish. Who's going to get the money for us, Harry? Toulouse, with those silly, worthless doodles of his? Audrey, who couldn't write a line to save her life, assuming she even is a she? Oh, perhaps Satie, with that dithering, nonsensical bullshit that comes out of that piano? Even if they were to somehow get their wits about them, it would take time to make nearly as much money as needed! You need me, Harry, don't forget that!
Satine, I'm not contesting you, he argued. But the man's not well, any fool can see that! He's weak, and...
And all the better! she answered. He'll be only too glad to invest, once I...
I'd had enough. Very carefully I left my station under the trunk and hurried across the yard, trying painfully not to let my shoes clatter against the yard. apparently I didn't try hard enough, because I heard Satine's shout after me. Who's there? she barked, then softened her voice quickly. Hello? Who is it?
I turned and looked up to see Satine and Harry standing at the heart-shaped window, staring down at me. Harry narrowed his eyes. Nini? Is that you?
I...yes, Harry. Just taking a walk.
Satine stared down her nose at me. You didn't, by any chance...hear anything, did you? her voice was casual, but her eyes demanding.
Now, I'm not the smarted girl in the world, I'll admit, but I do know when to keep my mouth shut. I shook my head. Why, no, Mademoiselle, I said innocently. You don't think there's a burglar out, do you? I widened my eyes, imitating worry. Of course, I wasn't, and anyone closer could have seen that, but they were far enough a way to not notice.
Harry smiled warmly. No, no, dear. Now, trot on off to bed. Tomorrow's another busy day.
I nodded and bowed my head. Oui, Harry. Bon nuit, Harry, Mademoiselle Satine. I turned on my heel, walking quickly back to my room and trying to ignore the pit of dread that was forming in my stomach.