The Phantom and the Stagehand

by The Southern Rose

Belle and her brothers have been living on the streets for years; their parents murdered and left with Father's gambling debts to pay. Luckily they land jobs at the Opera Garner. Belle catches the eye of one lurking phantom but it's not what he expected, a stagehand! Impossible, right? Can she finally find love & peace, or will her family's past come calling for one final payment?

6. Chapter 6

Hello my faithful readers and followers! I am so sorry for the delay in posting, I have had a week to say the least! Very long and late hours at work plus my summer class. To make up for my delay, this chapter from Erik's view is kinda long. Just as a reminder, I do not own any of the Andrew Lloyd Webber or Gaston Leroux characters which include Carlotta, her posy, Madame Giry, Meg, the ballet corps, or Erik. I do lay claim to Belle, her brothers, Marie Foss (whom you will meet today) Christophe, and the managers. I love reviews and feedback, please don't feel shy or bad for reviewing something that you would like to see or needs to be changed. I remain your obedient servant,

~The Southern Rose~

I sit in my usual perch, watching Madame rehearse the ballet feature I pleasantly like in this opera, only because it gets to publically humiliate a certain Prima Donna who is well past her prime. The second in command ballerina, Marie Foss, was trying rather hard to truly made the diva mad, and from her years in my opera house, she has had much practice in the art. Her curly raven hair rivaled mine, but was as untamed as its owner. Sure she followed Madame's direction, but had a nasty habit of altering it during performance to make herself the star of the show. I regularly make my sentiments known to Antoinette about her ballet prima donna, but I always get the same reply
"If I could, I would fire the ballet bitch, but then I would be left without the proper number of girls." Our conversation usually ends up in me pitying my second mother, and nodding in agreement. Today's rehearsal was no exception to Mademoiselle Foss's untamed persona. Though the ballet called for the trope of gypsies to rob the duchess of her jewels and finery, the rat was going beyond her calling. In all honesty, this was the only section of the opera I liked, mostly because of what voice it lacked. As it came to the brat's solo, the rest of the corps died back into the shadows, leaving her and her partner alone on stage. She came to a stop, the music continuing. My favorite part, seeing Antoinette yell at the cheap floosy. Madame slammed her cane on the floor, everyone freezing in place.
"And what, pray tell, is wrong?! Everything was going smoothly! For once at least…" Her eyes shooting daggers Carlotta.
"Madame someone has forgotten the chest!" I sat back in my seat and grinned like a cat. Oh I know, I have safely hid it in obscurity… I can hear the two twits of the opera house scrambling out on stage and trying to calm the beginning storm. The prima donna is already about to explode from one reason or another.
"What do you mean? I just put it behind the set last night!" one stagehand called out. Christophe was walking the catwalk above the stage, trying to get a phantom's eye view.
"I don't see it from up here!" he called out. "All you stagehands scatter and find it! Or so help me I will hurt you all!" I laugh to myself, you fools will never…
"Here it is! I nearly tripped over it on my way to the costuming room." A small female voice calls out, the fake jewels rattling through the stage. I leap to my feet and lean over the railing to see which little rat found it. She comes from backstage, the chest weighing as much as she does, her auburn hair already falling from her bun. The little dancing girl from the street. She did say she was a stagehand… She brings the chest to center stage and drops it in a heap, echoing in the hall.
"You wish to break my stage 'ittle…" suddenly Carlotta stopped mid insult, staring the girl down. "You is…a stagehand…?!" the diva broke into laughter, her posy of plump pomp and circumstance joining her. "Was ze matter, not good enough to tance? Or maybe you make money on ze side you 'ittle rat!" Her words like venom to the dancing girl. I could hear an orchestra member shouting something in gibberish, the maestro working hard to calm the boy down. She stood firm where she was, looking the prima beast in the eye.
"At least they make me offers. Without your corset you would be another squealing pig wandering the streets of Paris!" She turned on her heal and marched off, leaving the diva speechless. It looks like our little dancing girl is quite the ball of fire behind her quiet façade. I grin madly and make my way to the catwalks. I want to take advantage of this fiery situation while things are still hot. By the time I arrive the ballet it already in full swing, the chest in its proper place and the solo about to begin. I position a sandbag above the wild child Foss and wait for the perfect timing. Just a few more measures and… before I can let go she crumbles in a heap and screams, holding tight to her ankle. I pull the sandbag back and tie it back to the wall. What a curious development this is… the brat's partner scooped her up and pulled her off stage. Madame looked both annoyed and relieved at the girl's accident. She looks up to me, her brown eyes piercing my black soul. I shook my head, I had nothing to do with it, though I wish I did. She walked to the stage and picked up a small pearl from one of the fake pieces in the chest. I couldn't help but let out a bold laugh, her cockiness was her own demise.
"Alright girls, have your costumes ready for the girl to come by and pick up and alter if need be, then I guess you all can have the day off. The little dancing girl comes back, paint smeared on her face as she is swarmed by ballerinas in need of altering.
"My skirt needs to be shorter!" one cried out.
"And mine is to tight!"
"My costume is to big you dunce!" It wasn't her fault; they came in general sizes. That is what an alteration girl is for! I rolled my eyes as the mob of women slid backstage. I used a sandbag and lowered myself behind Madame, making sure to bow.
"Greeting Madame…your ballet corps looks very well today…"
"And I am to assume that this little stunt was not of your doing?" she held up the faux pearl. I shook my head.
"As much as I wish I could claim this accident, the cocky brat brought it upon herself; but fret not Madame, I know of a replacement for the wretch." She raised her eyebrow, crossing her arms and waiting for my grand scheme. "The costume girl. I have seen her dance on street with her brothers and for this opera, she will serve well as a replacement." Her finger idly tapped her arm as she pondered my suggestion. She closed her eyes and sighed, nodding her head. I bowed again and left the stage, almost happy for once. I returned to the catwalks before anyone discovered me. Most of the cast and help had left for the night, only a single flame awake in the early evening. The head seamstress was giving the dancing girl a list of things to accomplish before the morning. The girl simply nodded her head, gave the occasional 'oui madame' when needed. The plump seamstress soon left, a bottle in her hand as she walked out. The girl let out a long sigh as she looked over her work; ballerina costumes, actor and actress, and the grand dress of diva. Her brothers soon joined her, the youngest smiling from ear to ear. She ruffled his hair and kissed his nose. The elder of the brothers hugged his sister and tapped his brother on the shoulder, the two of them showing off their duet for the opera while she worked. I watched the little family interact, the elder boy trying for the first time to speak French. The younger one understood the French language, but never said a word. The clock in the grand hall sounded it was 15 after 11. She rose from her chair, her work complete, and helped the elder brother with the younger one. She kissed them both, one being fast asleep in his brother's arms, and bid them goodnight. I could hear the girl humming as she returned to her room, her voice soft like an angel…a rich tone, much lower than Christine's range but still a soprano none the less. I returned to my home below, my thoughts wandering back to the girl. Such an interesting girl, not like most of the girls in my opera house. There are 2 kinds of girls; the drunk and loose, or dainty and frail… then it hit me; I don't even know the girl's name! That night I slept deeply for the first time since…dare I say her name. My dreams wandered over names for the little dancing girl; Marie was to typical, Elizabeth was to plain, and heaven forbid it was something lavish like Kathryn Abigail or something else with two first names. It had to be simple, yet extra…
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN ME DRESS ISNT FIXED?!" the screech of the banshee ripping me from my sleep. I don't think Carlotta has ever been so upset, and she hasn't let out a scream from hell like that since I had her 'replaced'. I quickly dressed, leaving my cape behind and rushed to the surface. Whatever had the diva in a whirlwind I must see for myself. I arrive to my box to see the two twits, the diva, Antoinette, and the dancing girl all on stage.
"YOU!" the diva screams, pointing a finger at the girl "YOU is the 'ittle RAT who disn't fix me DRESS!" The two twist rushed to the diva's side and tried to calm her.
"My sincerest apologies Prima Donna…" she gave a deep curtsy, trying to show her remorse. The only response the diva gave were several swats with her fan, pushing the girl back to the costuming room and yelling in Spanish the whole way there. She then screamed her orders to the girl, waving her fan around like a conductor, then scurried off with her plump posy to 'more important' things. I quickly left the box, wanting to get closer to the girl. She was sitting outside the stuffy costume room, schemes of fabric strewn about with the diva's dress on a (dress holder thing). I descended from the catwalks and stood in the shadows of the costuming room.
"Damnit! That pompous prima donna…." The girl swore softly and she put her finger in her mouth. She was working quickly to coddle the crying infant before things could get worse. "Shit!" she swore again, ripping out the stitching and having to do it again. I stepped forward when my foot kicked something, causing the girl to sit up and look around. I looked down to see her thimble. No wonder she kept sticking herself… I picked it up, how small the thimble was, even for a girl. Her hands are smaller than I remember…so petite…like her body… I slapped my mind. How could I think such a thing? I looked up to see the girl being led away by Madame, something about a costume. The dress was very impressive, large and pink enough to soothe the savage soprano. I followed the pair in the shadows, then came to Madame's side once the girl had gone. She looked at me and sighed
"I hope you are right about this mon cher…" she said, putting a hand to my arm. I took her hand and kissed it, my reassurance to her.
"Madame, would you mind getting me some pins? Christine's old outfit is much too big for me…"
"Oiu Mon cher, just a moment." She looked at me curiously, then fetched the pins for the girl. "Here you are…what is your name mon cher?" there was silence for a few moments before the girl stepped out in Christine's old outfit. My blood boiled at the sight of her outfit…if the girl said her name, I must have missed it. I stormed off to my box, wishing to be far away from anything that belonged to that back stabber…I watched the girl dance with the rest of the ballerinas; fitting in beautifully and standing out among them all. She was the only one with auburn hair, all the others were black or brown, the occasional blonde shining through. She bumped into another ballerina and immediately started to spew apologies, catching the girls off guard from the insults that Carlotta threw all through the rehearsal. Once the diva had enough for the day, she just walked off stage, leaving everyone else behind. Madame dismissed the ballerinas, most of them scurrying back to their dorms, the little rats. I too left, wishing to leave the little dancing girl a note, my preferred way of communication. I 'borrowed' a piece of parchment from the managers, using my best penmanship, and wrote the girl, making sure my sentiments were known about her rehearsal appearance. I turned to leave when I saw a rose Carlotta had tossed out. It was red, the color of love and lust... I picked up the fresh flower and tied a black ribbon below it, old habits do die hard. I returned to her room and set them atop her book and went through the mirror. I stood just beyond the other side and waited for the girl to return, which wasn't long thank heaven. She instantly found my note and gift. She took a deep smell of the delicate flower and read over my note. She seemed lost in thought, then came back and shook her head. Ducking behind her screen, she changed into a dress. I didn't think the girl had one…I am glad for once to be wrong. The girl pulled her hair down, letting it fall like rain down her shoulders and back, stopping just above her lower back. From under her bed she pulled out an instrument, a flute! One of my personal favorites besides my piano forte. Her tone was beautiful, it floated through the passageway behind me and breathed life into the old burned walls. I could listen to her for hours…and look at her even longer. Those blue eyes…blue like a running brook…my thoughts were cut by her blipping a note. Her hand went to her hair, which was catching on the back of the chair. I could see her reaching for the ribbon.
"Please don't!" I stood dead still, contemplating weather I was thinking loudly or I had given the girl an order.
"Don't do what?" her response confirming my suspicion. She didn't seem afraid of me.
"Pull up your hair. It's quite lovely you know." She stood from her chair, the ribbon falling to the floor as she looked around for me. I grinned and stepped into the light of her candle. "Not many French women have Irish in their blood." She backed away from me, putting her flute in its case and grabbing a knife from her dresser.
"You are quite right. My name is Erik, mon cher." I move the mirror aside and step through, bowing deeply to the girl. I shake my head at her trying to hide a knife behind her. "You can put that knife away Mademoiselle…" I trail off, waiting for her to state her name.
"Belle, and my mother is Irish, but my father was Austrian, not French." Belle…what a perfect name for such a beautiful creature… She backs away from me still, a side effect of living on the streets.
"I wish you know harm mon cher, I come as a musician and a teacher. Come with me?" I beckon to the mirror behind me "I wish to show you something, and bring you flute, it will add well to my arrangement." The girl seemed intrigued, for she packs her things and follows me. To my dismay she has tied her hair back, but her hand in mine has made up for it. I have not taken the mirror path regularly since I burned down the opera house, and there are many loose stones along the path I have long forgotten about. I feel her loose her footing, gripping my hand tighter and moving closer to me. I smile, but it is short lived. I look down to see her staring at my mask and my cape and I was very sure she had many more questions running through her mind. I roll my eyes and close them in frustration "Mon cher, your curiosity is deafening, would you kindly." I feel her body slam into mine, sending both of us down the stairs and into the fridge lake. Geez, she's heavier than she looks! I go to swim after her when I feel my cape tighten around my throat. I see it is caught on the spike of the gate. I reach out and grab her cloak, hoping she could help. I see her dive back under and pull the knife she was clinging to earlier. She quickly cuts my cloak off and helps me to the surface and then out of the water. I stay on all fours, heaving up water from my lungs while she runs off. I make sure my mask is in place before standing up to see where she ran off to. She was up the stairs a few steps from the bottom checking on her flute case. I smile and walk to her, gently taking her hand in mine and leading her to the boat like I once did with Christine... how I wished I could get that cursed woman out of my head. I ferry her across the lake and lead her to my piano, an old piece of mine waiting for new life that only she could give. I leave her briefly to change from my wet clothes. I slip into something comfortable, my simple sheer shirt and trousers. Before leaving I grab a blanked from the wardrobe, the girl must be cold with her soaking wet clothes. I leave my room and come around the corner, the girl wandering around my home. Quite the curious little thing… my mind wanders as she does, such an interesting girl…such beauty…so much more than Christine could ever hope to have. I see the sheet covering the wedding gown I had made for Christine come flying off, exposing the burned dress. She ran her hands over the burned and yellowed lace and silk. My anger grows inside, my hand shaking. I storm over and shout with all I have
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I shove the girl to the floor, my mind racing back to the night she left me for that rich fop. "There are things that are OFF LIMITS DOWN HERE!" I hear her scrambling to get up and run off. I can't let her go, not another one… I grab her arm, my mind finally coming off of its rage. "I'm sorry…It's just the memory of her is painful and I wish not to bring it back up again." I feel her tension ease slightly in my grip. "I bought that for her, but she rejected me…I don't want it to happen to me, or anyone else..." I sank into the chair next to the dress, resting my face in my hands. How could I have been so stupid! Why did I keep that cursed dress?! I run my hands through my hair and sigh. Her footsteps echo through the living area. There she goes you imbecile, your last chance at love and you threw it away! I open my eyes...did I just say… yes I think I did, I think I love this girl… at least like her… I hear a soft voice.
"Play this? For me…?" I looked up to see Belle standing with the composition in her hand, her eyes locked on me. She wanted me…no one could deny that look. I give her a seductive and confident grin as I rise from my chair and cross the room to my piano.
"Are you sure mon cher? Once the Phantom plays for you, you will never be able to resist me…" Her beautiful eyes were locked with mine, begging for my music. I slide the score from her hands and slip the blanket over her shivering shoulders. My confidence was beaming; I was on top of the world. I motioned for her to sit at my side, taking her hand and pulling her to me. I glide effortlessly over my piano forte, playing and singing my work that I once wrote for Christine. I didn't give a damn about that little rat any longer. I played my heart out, the ending of the piece echoing beautifully through my abode. I looked over at the girl, her eyes wide with enchantment.
"Monsieur, the music…it's so…" she was at a loss for words. I gave her a dark, seductive and enchanting grin. I leaned in closer to her, how I longed to kiss her, hold her…have her…
"No one shall escape my music…not even a girl as cold as you…" I pulled away, her cheeks red like the rose. I took her hand and kissed it softly, the roughness almost tantalizing to my lips. "Come my dear, you must return before you are missed." I helped her up and back into the boat, her hair had fallen from its ribbon, framing her porcelain face and casting a shadow in the candlelight. I escorted her back to the mirror, I bid her goodnight before she asked a peculiar question.
"Monsieur, why do you treat me so?" I turn in to face the girl.
"Treat you how my dear?"
"Like a lady; you hardly know me yet you woo me with your beautiful music…" the heat rises in her cheeks again. I keep a straight face, trying not to force my lips upon this enchanting creature.
"Whether you see it or not, you are indeed a lady Mademoiselle Belle, and in turn demand such respect. Now get some rest, you have long days ahead of you." I step closer and plant a kiss on her forehead, her skin soft like a rose petal. Erik you are going to have to keep yourself in check around the girl… then I close the mirror behind me, a small smile rising in my cheeks.