Running up to the dormitory, I frantically tore off my jewelry and costume not paying attention to how much it hurt, and grabbed the first dress I could find. The sinched waist snugged on, but the layered skirt must've weighed 40 pounds! It was a miracle I could move and not be dragged down. Finding Monsieur Reyer, he escorted me into the rehearsal space. Waiting for us was Piangi's understudy, a dark haired Englishman, who was pleasantly surprised at my fluent conversation.

The one-on-one rehearsal flew by. Monsieur Reyer provided me with a score and fountain pen to annotate and directed us from the rehearsal piano, Piangi's understudy had already memorized his part and needed to work on technicality. My technicality was in check, but I had to memorize my other few arias and duets. Elissa was the female principle, but this was Chalumeau's Hannibal. It was still nail biting, though, with the performance mere hours away. Working in summer stock musical theatre, we were given one week, six weeks tops. Monsieur Reyer demanded nothing short of perfection, but his patience relaxed me and rehearsal ended quickly.

After lunch, I changed into ballet leotards so Madame Giry could go over my choreography and blocking. First with me, then the whole ensemble. This again went by quickly with Christine's limber body and my previous (albeit limited) dance experience. "Let me show you your dressing room," she said once we were finished. "A few of your clothes were brought up and measurements need to be taken to adjust the costumes." The dressing room was Carlotta's, jade wallpaper with a vanity, a screen, a chaise lounge, an armoire, and another floor length mirror bolted to the wall trimmed with gold leaf.

I was also assigned Carlotta's maid, a girl a little over my age. She was the only person who'd liked Carlotta and was understandably irked at being left behind. She despised me; tying the measuring tape too tight so it bit at my flesh leaving red marks and slamming my makeup tray with a "THUNK", almost tipping a few jars and vials of creams and mineral powders. "Would Mademoiselle like anything before dinner?"

I sank on the chaise, letting my arms and legs tangled. "A hot bath and some lemon tea would be nice." She nodded and stepped into the adjoining boudoir. I went to the armoire and found the signature lace bathrobe. It took a lot to keep the phan girl in me from squealing, but I stepped behind the screen and changed. Again, hopefully he wasn't watching, but he wouldn't. Despite who he was and who he'd been, he'd always been a gentleman.

The tile bit my bare feet as I walked to the steaming tub. "I'll prepare your tea for you." The maid shut the door and stripping down, I dipped a foot in the water, only to immediately leap back with a yelp. The bath water was scalding! The maid must've hated me more than I thought. I added some cold water and sunk in, closing my eyes and tuning out the world.

After scrubbing up, the maid entered with a cup of tea. I smiled. "Oh, thank you. I'll take it after my bath."

"You should really drink it now, Mademoiselle, before it gets cold."

"I'm almost done, just need to wash my hair."

"But this tea is made with special herbs to soothe your vocal cords. And it must be drunk immediately or it loses its potency."

I froze. Special tea with special herbs? The Charles Dance version! In the 1990 TV film, Carlotta mixed a special tea for Christine with "soothing herbs" only to have Christine poisoned and choke onstage. This maid was even using Carlotta's exact words and there was a huge bulge in her pocket she hadn't even attempted to hide! But theory had to be tested. "Alright then." She passed me the china cup. I pretended to sip and the maid eyed me intently. "Would you please fetch Madame Giry for me?"

"Certainly Mademoiselle." She stepped out and came back with her a few minutes later.

"What is it my dear? You're keeping me from my rehearsal."

"I do apologize, Madame, but there's something urgent. Carlotta's maid has poisoned my tea."

"That's ridiculous!" the maid snapped back too quickly.

"You're not a good liar Mademoiselle," I reproached coolly, "I can make out the bottle of the stuff in your apron pocket."

"That's my medicine! I have a condition."

My eyebrow arched. "Oh? What?"

"Erm- my heart skips beats!" she said lamely.

"You took too long to answer. The poison would cause me to choke the minute I started to sing, providing you and your employer with a laugh. But you're forgetting; the Phantom wouldn't find it funny at all."

The maid furrowed her eyebrows. "What's the Phantom got to do with it?"

My face flushed. "Never you mind!"

"It's too late for you anyway, you already sipped it!" she retorted triumphantly.

"Oh, pish. I only pretended to drink so I could observe your reaction, and you never took your eyes off me."

The maid bowed her head and Madame Giry felt around in the apron pocket, pulling out a miniscule green bottle. "I'll make sure you never work again," she spat. The maid let out a little sniffle. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention Christine."

"You're welcome Madame. But please don't be too harsh on her."

"That is not for me to decide. We'll bring this up with the managers. And I'll have someone get you a fresh cup of tea." Madame Giry took the tainted one from me, seized the sobbing maid's wrist, and left the room. I sank back into the bubbles. I'd had my fair share of offstage drama before, but this was ridiculous!