Chapter Four - Prima Donna Problems
Angelique hurried past the boxes and halls until she made it backstage, where the wooden rafters and painted props replaced carpeted floors and golden door handles. Her eyes scanned the walls until she saw the two doors explicitly labeled for the two divas. Arriving at the first, she knocked and waited. She could hear that horrid Spanish woman shouting and arguing from within, making Angelique jump at the sound of china smashing.
A middle-aged woman poked her head out from the door, her hair sticking out every which-way under her cap. "What?!" she gasped, clearly out of breath and frustrated.
"The managers sent towels-" she started, nearly jumping back as the woman took the stack in her right hand and shut the door in her face. Memories flooded her mind as she clutched the solitary stack of cloth in her hands, her brows furrowing as she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.
"Forget it. You're safe now, far away from them." Urging herself onward, she took several steps down the hall until she saw the name "Daae" emblazoned on another door. She bit her lip as she heard two voices inside, also heated and rising in anger. Tempted to walk away, she forced herself to stay put. Raising her hand to knock on the door, she found herself tapping her knuckles against a man's chest, covered in fine, expensive clothes. "Oh!" she gasped, stepping away as she realized the gentleman had opened the door so quickly that she was hitting him instead of the wood. "Pardon, monsieur!" she exclaimed, curtsying at once.
His look of frustration at the woman in the room changed to one of surprise upon seeing Angelique, a gentle smile appearing on his lips. He was a handsome young man, just a year older than herself, though he had the appearance of a lad of eighteen. He had a fair complexion, beautiful eyes the color of a clear summer's day, and golden blonde hair, with a moustache appearing on his upper lip.
"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle. It is I should be apologizing." He tipped his hat to her before looking over his shoulder and sending a glare to the woman inside. "Good day, Miss Daae."
"Don't ever see me again, Raoul. Just don't," a strained, quivering voice from within retorted.
With a growl, the young man muttered his apologies to Angelique before stalking past her and down the hall. She raised an eyebrow at this before tentatively stepping into the diva's room. "Mademoiselle?"
"What is it?" Sitting at the far left corner of the lavender room was a beautiful girl at an elegant vanity. She was a vision, an angel on earth with cascading curls that fell over her shoulders and shone like the sun, while her eyes appeared to be drops of the ocean, changing from jade to cerulean in the light of the candelabras. Her skin was soft and pale, her lips painted by an artist – full and pink, curved with perfection, while her lashes fluttered upon the tops of her cheeks. She couldn't have been any older than Angelique, but there was something about her spirit and being that gave her the look of a fifteen year old child.
After taking her in, Angelique noticed how the girl's eyes shone with tears, her bottom lip quaking as she struggled not to cry. "Mon Dieu, what's wrong?!" Angelique declared, setting the towels down and rushing to her side. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor girl, wanting to wrap her arms around her and reassure her that all would be well.
"I can't…I just can't!" she wept, covering her face as she sobbed into her hands.
Without a second thought, Angelique placed her arms around her and embraced the poor girl, letting her cry on her dress. "There, there, it can't be that bad…"
"But it is," she sniffled, struggling to clean her face. Angelique grabbed the kerchief off the vanity and handed it to the girl, allowing her a few moments to recollect herself. "Thank you…oh, look at me," she sighed, wiping her tears away. "I'm so sorry…" Raising her eyes, she finally got a good look at the young woman, her eyes narrowing just a smidge as she struggled to place the new face. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I've ever seen you before."
"You couldn't have. I only just arrived here last night," Angelique shook her head with a smile, her tangled locks gently moving against her neck with the slight motion of her head. "My name is Angelique, I'm the new seamstress."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she heard the news. "Oh, you're the new seamstress! I heard about you from little Jammes and Meg Giry." Her face seemed to brighten as a smile graced her face. "I couldn't help myself – I stopped by the workroom earlier and saw that dress you made. How did you manage?! It's absolutely stunning!"
"You're too kind," she blushed, a delighted smile on her face. "Thank you, Miss Daae-"
"Christine, please," she insisted, taking the girl's hand in her own. "I'm so happy you could join the Opera Garnier. God has blessed your hands, cherie."
"And your voice, from what I've heard," Angelique added. "I would very much like to hear you at a performance."
"I'm performing Faust tonight, actually," Christine informed her, the light from her eyes dimming a bit. "I'll be in the background tonight, La Carlotta is Margarita."
"How unfortunate," grimaced Angelique. "I heard her earlier today…her performance was very…loud."
Christine could not suppress a giggle, causing Angelique to join her. "Oh, I'm horrid!" Christine shook her head, though she couldn't stop herself.
"Not at all," she disagreed. "I'd like to see you perform the role, though."
"You are not the only one," Christine murmured, her eyes darting about as she took in the room.
Angelique frowned at her reaction but said nothing. "I take it you and the young gentleman are courting-?"
"Heavens, no!" Christine gasped, shaking her head violently.
Startled, Angelique blinked at her before making a face of confusion. "Sorry…my mistake."
"Oh dear, if only, if only!" Christine moaned.
"What is it?" Angelique insisted, falling to her knees and looking up at the girl. "Christine, if there is anything I can do to help-"
"Unless you can convince angels to change their minds, there is nothing you can do," Christine answered softly, shaking her head.
"Angels? What do angels have to do with anything?" asked the seamstress, extremely perplexed by the dilemma.
Looking into Angelique's eyes, Christine gripped her hands and whispered, "You do believe in angels, don't you?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"If I tell you, you won't think I'm mad?"
"No, of course not. Christine, what is all this-?"
Without another word, Christine leapt onto her feet and ran to the door, shutting it and snapping the lock into place before motioning for Angelique to join her on the settee. "Please, sit here," she pleaded, patting the empty spot beside her. The girl obeyed the singer, waiting for an explanation. "I really shouldn't tell you, Angelique, but I do so desperately need to talk to someone or I shall go utterly mad!" When the seamstress said nothing, looking at her with patient, quiet eyes, Christine took a breath and finally began to speak. "My father was the one who first taught me how to sing, but he became ill some time ago. Before he died, he promised he would send me the Angel of Music to watch over me…and he did! I was only here a few months before my Angel found me. He gives me lessons, Angelique, and that is how my singing has improved. I love him so dearly, I want him to be with me always, but…"
"But you cannot see the young man," Angelique surmised, suspicious about this angel that Christine mentioned.
"Yes," Christine nodded. "His name is Raoul, he's the Vicomte de Chagny."
"The Vicomte?!" gaped Angelique. "It appears both brothers are interested in the opera…"
"Oui," Christine nodded. "He and I were childhood friends…He's in love with me." Her face became a lovely shade of pink, nearly turning red.
"Don't you love him back?" asked Angelique.
"I cannot," she shook her head stubbornly. "I don't want my Angel to go away to Heaven and leave me here alone."
"I see," muttered the seamstress. "So you turn the Vicomte away for the Angel."
"Yes! You understand, don't you? He's a link to my father. Raoul is a dear friend, but I cannot abandon my Angel!"
"…how do you love your angel, Christine?"
She blinked, stunned by the question. "Pardon?"
"How do you love him?" she repeated. "As a friend? Guardian? Father-figure? Lover-?"
"Heavens, no, not like that," she shook her head, her face rather red. "No…he's my world. He's everything…but I cannot love him like…that." She let her hair cover her face, clearly embarrassed. "It's forbidden for humans and angels to be in love, you know."
"Yes, I know," Angelique nodded. "Well…whatever you decide, I shall be there for you."
Christine raised her eyes, a grateful smile on her lips as she saw genuine concern and care in Angelique's grey-blue eyes. "Oh, thank you! Thank you, Angelique! I knew you'd understand me." She embraced her tightly, kissing her cheek. "You're a darling!"
"Hardly," Angelique chuckled, shaking her head as she hugged her back. "Everything will turn out all right, Christine, you'll see." Patting her friend's hands, she got up and made her way for the door. "I must go – you need to prepare and I need to get back to work."
"Come and watch the performance from the wings, won't you? Where the ballerinas wait for their cues!" Christine pleaded, earning a grin from the girl.
"I shall – I promise!" Shutting the door behind her, Angelique walked away from the room, her brows furrowing as she remembered what Christine had told her. "Something's not right…why would the 'Angel' deny Christine happiness with someone who clearly loves her?" Walking through the halls and passages, Angelique glanced around and listened carefully, a theory floating in her mind."Could this 'Angel' and the Opera Ghost be one in the same?"
~OG~
"Mademoiselle!" Jammes hissed as she poked her head through the doorway of the room. "Do hurry! Christine Daae will be singing soon!"
Angelique looked up from her work, exhausted from taking inventory and starting on new designs since she came back from seeing Christine. She had eaten a meager supper quickly and gotten to work at once, excited to get busy, her mind still spinning with the thought of ghosts and angels. Jammes's reminder of the show made her jump, realizing that she had most likely missed the first part of the show. "I'm coming," she said, flexing her fingers and stretching her arms before twisting her hair into a bun and rushing out after the ballerina. "Which way?"
"Hurry!" Jammes squealed, scampering off. Leading the young woman, she skidded to a halt and grabbed Angelique's hand, tugging her through the maze of people working backstage until they arrived at last at the corps de ballet.
"Mademoiselle, you made it!" Meg smiled, though it did not reach her eyes.
"Meg, have you seen your mother? I just wanted to let her know how everything's been going since we last spoke," Angelique asked, concern bubbling within her breast the moment Meg gave her a miserable look.
"Maman's been…released from her services," Meg informed her quietly. "The managers didn't want her because she worked for the…Phantom."
Angelique's jaw dropped at this, a mixture of worry, anger, and sympathy filling her. After everything that woman did for her, how could she not feel sorry? "Oh, Meg!"
"Jammes, where did you-?" a tall, slender, dark-haired woman asked, raising an eyebrow at Angelique. "Who is this?"
"Angelique, the seamstress," Jammes stated proudly.
"This is not a place for the others to join and watch-"
"Sorelli, Mademoiselle Daae asked her to come and watch here!" Meg Giry piped up.
"It's all right, girls," Angelique shushed them. "I'll find another place-"
"Co-ack!"
Everything seemed to pause, as if frozen from the shock of hearing such a prominent, defining sound that unnaturally came out of the prima donna's mouth. The ballerinas' attention now on the stage, Angelique peered out at La Carlotta and gaped in amazement.
"W-well, go on!" Richard's voice was heard as he shouted from Box Five.
Taking a deep breath, Carlotta trembled as she tried once more, the audience at the edge of their seats, anxiously awaiting the next note.
"I feel without alarm –co-ack!
With its melody enwind me –co-ack!
And all my heart sub –co-ack!"
The house was in an uproar at this, whispering, gasping, pointing, crying out. Angelique was torn between wanting to gasp in shock and laugh in disbelief – how was this possible?! Suddenly, a voice filled the air that sent shivers down her spine.
"Behold! She is singing tonight to bring down the chandelier!"
Her eyes darted towards the ceiling, widening as they saw the massive, beautiful chandelier hanging over the audience now dangling precariously. "Mon Dieu, look!" she pointed. The sparkling structure was released from its hold, free falling down towards the people below. Screams filled the air as it collapsed, a resounding crash shaking the building as the people leapt from their seats and ran for their lives.
"Sacre bleu!" La Sorelli screamed, her hand going to her mouth instantly.
"The Opera Ghost!" the chorus girls and ballerinas screeched.
On stage, the lights flickered for a mere instant. La Carlotta collapsed onto the floor in a dead faint, and the actors remaining on stage gasped and cried out as they realized something was terribly wrong.
"Miss Daae?! Where's Miss Daae?!" she heard someone shout.
"She's gone!" another shouted. "She's disappeared!"
Turning on her heel, Angelique ran out of the wing, shoving past the frantic girls and shouting stagehands until she arrived backstage, her eyes scanning the area as best as she could. "Christine? Christine!" she shouted, moving towards the dressing rooms. Gathering her skirts into her fists, she ran as quickly as she could, praying that the singer could be found in her dressing room. Christine's words drifted through her mind once more, the Opera Ghost and Angel of Music suddenly meshing together. "Could it be they're one in the same…?"
Reaching for the door, she frowned as she noticed that the door was cracked open. "Christine?" she called out, placing her palm against the wood and pushing it open. Stepping into the room, she found two figures searching frantically in the singer's quarters. "Comte and Vicomte de Chagny?!"