A/n: All right beloved readers, here's the next chapter. It's a bit long, but I decided to leave it that way because of the wait I keep imposing on you all. Again, I am betaless for this chapter, so all mistakes are mine.
Now for some review replies:
JadedWarrior—Thanks for the review! Adorable? I never thought of my story as such, but I thank you all the same! I hope you continue to enjoy the story.
Jedigal125—I know, I know, I'm terrible when it comes to quick updates, but at least this chapter's absurdly long to make up for the wait I keep putting you through. Thanks for the review!
Tina95—I have a huge grin spreading across my face as I read your review. Thank you so much for the praise, I'm very honoured. I'm glad you approve of my writing style and my decision to take things slow and easy. Well, maybe not easy, but you get the idea. Nothing is easy with Erik involved. I hope you continue to read and enjoy!
Mominator124—Thanks for the review! Yeah, Raoul is…interesting in this one. See, as my profile says, I'm not a fop huntress, but that doesn't mean I have to be nice to him all the time. Lol No, Erik is too good with his instruments for anybody to fall asleep to his music unless he wants them to. Please keep reading, and I hope this chapter pleases!
Muse—Thank you so much, once again, for your kind words and your enthusiasm. You make my day, my dear! Yes, "Again, damn it!" is Erik's anthem, as is my own music teacher's, minus the profanity. Lol I'm glad you looked forward to the update, and I hope the wait for this chapter wasn't too long. I went through several different stages writing this chapter, so hopefully it's worth the wait.
Etoile du Bolshoi—Thanks for the review! Aww, no OCD comments? I think I might cry. Well, I'm glad you liked it, notwithstanding. Keep reading, and I'm glad you liked the real version of the story rather than the sampler I gave you. Just shows your integrity. Lol
Trep—Everyone keeps asking me to ship Erik to them for a massage, and as much as I'd love to, he's kind of busy administering one to me at the moment. (muffled shouts come from my closet) Oh…just ignore all that. He' really does like it in there. (opens the closet door and whispers menacingly: "Shut up Erik! You're supposed to be my muse! So…inspire me or something!") Thanks for the review, I hope you like the next chapter, even though it doesn't have much Erik in it, sadly.
Reviews are the greatest gift you can give to an author, and while I don't demand them, or write any slower if I don't get them, I do really, really love them! Please keep 'em coming!
I'd also like to take a moment to thank those that are reading, but that have not yet reviewed. I know you're out there, you all mean so much to me, so thank you!
And now…read on, darlings, read on.
Amor Vincit Omnia
Chapter 7 Introductions and Intrigue
"Christine Daaé, whatever shall I do with you?"
As the final notes of her song faded, Christine's eyes dropped to survey her shoes to escape Erik's piercing gaze. His voice was not harsh as she might have expected, but rather it was unspeakably weary, as though he had not anticipated such a struggle in "finding her soul". After a half hour of attempting to inject more feeling and passion into her song, and-by Erik's standards-not improving it more than a fractional amount, Christine felt exhausted, frustrated and above all, helpless. It was as though Erik saw some potential passion in her that she did not in truth possess. What soul was he talking about? If she only knew how to unlock the true happiness and glorious rapture that this aria commanded of her, then she would do it. It was figuring out where it lay within her and how to access it that made it difficult for her to really feel what she was singing. Her song tended to sound perfect in pitch and crystal clear, but it lacked any type of true happiness, rendering the lyrics pointless.
Erik stood up from his place on the piano bench beside Christine and began to pace about the small music room, apparently in a state of immense agitation. Unable to speak for the knot of anxiety in her stomach, Christine stood there watching his pacing. Would he finally give up on her? Had he wasted his time long enough and finally decided she was beyond all hope of teaching the finer points of music? Should she offer to leave and relieve him of his position as teacher? Not that she had hired or even asked him to help her, but perhaps she could offer him what little money she could provide him with for his services. After all, he had taken her a long way back down the path to the restoration of her voice. She could now perform at the Mackenzie Theatre's concert with a measure of confidence. Erik's voice cut into her musings then, but it had shed its weary quality.
"Perhaps this will make it easier for you," he mused as he resumed his position at the piano. His fingers glided over the ivory keys once more, and he began to play the introduction to 'Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring' more beautifully than Christine had ever heard it, even when it was played by an entire orchestra complete with the joyous cry of a violin singing out the melody.
"You are familiar with this piece," Erik stated, since it really wasn't a question. As it happened, Christine knew every word to the song, and she rationalized that Erik assumed that any lover of classical music would be acquainted with it. In truth, it was a song that Christine had sung often with her father, and one she had grown to love and associate with the joy of being with him, and which was now mingled very slightly with a tinge of sorrow for her loss.
"Yes," she finally managed to say, though it came out more like a feeble squeak. "But I haven't sung it in a really, really long time."
"No matter. Give it a try, Christine." He instructed, more gently than she had ever heard him.
Moving into the proper position for singing and lifting her eyes reluctantly from her feet, she opened her mouth and sang the long series of notes on "ah" that adorned the beginning of the piece. Then she sang:
"Jesu joy of man's desiring,
Holy wisdom, love most bright!
Drawn by thee
Our souls aspiring
Soar to uncreated light!"
With each word, her voice gained strength, and she allowed her memory to display the images from her life before the death of her mother, when life was simple and beautiful; when heartache was just a silly and overdramatic expression for sorrow that did not truly exist; when a smile hardly ever left her lips, and music was her constant companion. She captured all that old joy and wonder and life, and poured it out into the little music room through the transcendent words and melody of the song she sang. Dimly, in the musical interlude, she heard Erik command softly in his rich voice; "Yes Christine, sing!" And so she continued.
"Word of God
Our flesh that fashioned
With the fire of life impassioned!"
"Sing!"
"Striving still
To truth unknown
Soaring, dying
Round thy throne."
Then her voice rose and fell in the long series of wordless notes once more, ending both majestically and a little sorrowfully as well, slightly tainting the joy of the song with nostalgia.
After the last chord had fallen silent, Christine could do nothing but stand perfectly still but for her heaving chest. Every note had been effortless; her voice had truly soared over the notes as though it were water flowing endlessly to the sea. She felt as though she could have sang forever while she rode that current of exultation, and yet—now that the song was done—she felt very, very tired. Without thinking, she dropped onto the piano bench and sighed. Only then did she register her proximity to Erik, and an inexplicable blush rose to her cheeks at their sudden closeness. The only time in their three weeks of lessons that they had ever been so close was the time Erik had tried to relax her by rubbing her shoulders. That had been strange as well, and Christine had felt remarkably frightened and yet intrigued to be so close to him then, and it was no different now. Her impulses were mixed; one part of her told her to stand back up again and move to stand in the bend of the piano where she usually stood, the other part of her told her to remain where she was. Why did she feel like this? Erik was just a man…just a stranger who had taken pity on her rough vocal skills and decided to help her out. And for the umpteenth time the question floated back into her mind, breaking free of the cage she tried to lock it in. Why? Why do all this? Why was he at her high school? Why had he picked that day to come waltzing into this particular music room and randomly appoint himself as her informal vocal coach? 'No!' Christine thought vehemently, pushing the doubts and questions back. She didn't want to mull over the strangeness of it all. It made her shiver just thinking about it. Best to deal with her doubts later. Erik's intake of breath from her left drew her attention to him once more. They really were sitting closely together—her shoulder was nearly touching his. She slowly brought her eyes to his amber gaze and he finally spoke.
"Well done, my dear. You see what I meant now, don't you?"
Feeling only slightly disappointed, (she knew full well that Erik did not give compliments freely) she nodded.
"I think so."
"Now, if you feel up to it, your Gia Il Sole once again. Apply the same feelings to this song as you did before. Then, and only then, will your audience believe you. You can pluck at the stiffest of heart strings, if you try hard enough."
Christine looked doubtful for a moment. "That song was so special to me; I didn't have to work to find the emotion to put into it. I don't know if I can transfer the same energy into this song."
"you will find the place from which that energy flows, and you will be able to summon it nearly on command. You just need to stop focusing so hard on the notes and pitch and pronunciation. It is all perfect, or as close to perfection as it is possible to achieve. But a voice without a soul is not worth listening to. Your voice is lovely Christine, but it is not pleasant to listen to when it is passionless."
"Okay," Christine replied shakily, "I'll try it."
She stood and positioned herself so that her collarbone remained high, shoulders lined up with her parted feet, and began to sing the aria that was now drilled into her very core from three weeks of constant practice. She sang with all her might, desperately trying to measure up to this ideal Erik seemed to have for her. He had said her voice was lovely…was he being serious? That was the most extravagant compliment he had ever offered her…
"Back in the text, Christine," Erik snapped sharply, and she tore her mind from its previous train of thought and focused on the glowing happiness of the aria. Sunrise…dew drops…sparkling like diamonds…like diamonds…lovely sunshine…lots of pretty, just a whole bunch of shiny sunny happiness! Yes, there it was! She had it! She found that simply remembering that Erik had complimented her voice buoyed her emotions and made it possible for her to display the joy the aria described. If she held onto this feeling—this exquisite happiness—she would be able to succeed with grace and ease. Her happiness doubled when Erik informed her after several repetitions of certain lines in which more colour of emotion was required, that she had improved greatly in the three short weeks he had been teaching her.
For the final half hour of the lesson, Erik played for her. She supposed it was a reward of sorts, and so she relished it as much as she had the last time he had played for her. 'I'm really going to miss him' she thought sadly as his graceful hands caused the piano to produce the most wondrous of sound. 'I'll have to go it alone after this, but I don't want to stop singing again. I want to pursue this, now that I can do it without crying.'
Erik's song drew to a gentle close, and Christine realized reluctantly that it was time she left to catch her bus. On impulse, she walked to where Erik still sat and said:
"Thank you…for the compliment, and for your help. I feel like I can actually do this now. I don't think I could have done it without you. So thanks." She reached out to touch his hand, and involuntarily recoiled at the chill. She tried to cover up the awkward moment by smiling and turning swiftly away to fetch her backpack from the corner, but she could have sworn a shadow had passed over his face, and he had withdrawn his hand even before she had fully removed hers. Even through the thin gloves he always seemed to be so cold. It disconcerted her for a reason she could not quite fathom, but she vowed she would not be so discourteous if she ever found herself in the same situation a second time. She was not exactly sure, but she thought she had hurt him by moving away from him so quickly.
She barely heard his "you're very welcome, Christine" as she hurried from the room.
That night, Raoul came over to Christine's house, and they spent the evening watching a terrible movie, and mocking it enthusiastically the entire time. Christine preferred this; had the movie been enjoyable, she and Raoul might not have laughed and talked so much. She had always resented movie dates because they prevented couples from interacting with each other, but Raoul was a movie buff, so she compensated by engaging him in conversation whenever they watched one together. She would have loved a walk, but walking at night in the city in late November was not the most romantic of ventures, nor the safest, and so she supposed a movie would do. As they sat through one part, a lull in conversation gave Christine the opportunity to study Raoul's face. His features were very handsome, almost feminine in their beauty, and his smile was dazzling. She noticed however, that his gaze on her own face was idle, as though he were looking at her without truly seeing her. Unbidden, an image of Erik's intense eyes flashed into her mind. Erik always seemed not so much as to look at Christine, but rather gaze at her as though he were giving her his undivided attention, always. It was almost unnerving, but also flattering, to know that he was looking at her so intently. What did he see there, she wondered? 'Raoul never looks at me like that,' she thought, only to ponder seconds later why she had ever even contemplated comparing Erik to Raoul! Erik was just her teacher, nothing more; Raoul was her boyfriend for goodness' sake! What was the connection between them? Absolutely none, she decided, and pushed thoughts of Erik out of her mind, knowing they would return again in the night when she lay awake, listening to the deafening silence of the house, whether she wanted them to or not. It was a strange thought, and it made her shiver.
"Cold, babe?" Raoul asked, draping an arm around her.
For a moment, 'no I'm fine' sprang to her lips, but instead she chose to cuddle closer to him, resting her head against his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. It occurred to her that she hadn't been this close to him in a long time. She would have to make an effort to pay more attention after this whole concert affair was over, she decided.
Unfortunately, the cuddling session did not last as long as she would have liked, because Raoul grew warm too quickly, but it was nice all the same to be near to somebody. She had a glaring lack of physical affection in her life, having lost her parents; she supposed hugs from Raoul and Meg made up for this, at least in part. She loved them both all the more for it.
Christine awoke on the morning of the official rehearsal for the benefit concert, and realized that either she was extremely nervous or a whole host of butterflies had made her stomach their new home. She was in slight shock, as though she still couldn't quite believe that anyone would have known she could sing, and that they would have invited her to sing at their prestigious benefit concert. She was eager to learn who had suggested her, so that she could ask how they had possibly known she could sing. The only time she had sung in public, was at a Christmas mass with her father when she was fifteen. She doubted anybody of consequence would have watched her then, and remembered her two years later. Well, at any rate she would know very soon. Now, she had to focus on preparing for school without becoming a total bundle of nerves.
This proved difficult when she found herself placing the cereal box in the refrigerator and the milk jug in the cupboard.
She stopped in at her grandmother's door to say good morning as usual, and even the old woman (who was hazy with pain medication as her arthritis had made it necessary for her to take the "special" medicine again) could tell that Christine was not herself.
"What on Earth is the matter, Christine? You seem so…nervous."
Christine blushed. Was she so obviously transparent?
"I am a bit. The rehearsal at the Mackenzie is tonight, and I'm freaking out right now. I'm having…doubts."
An encouraging smile lit her grandmother's face, but Christine could not help but notice that the expression lacked its usual vibrant energy.
"You will blow them away, Christine. You're a fool if you're so worried. Confidence is the most attractive quality a woman can have; if you walk in there with your pretty head held high, nobody will try to intimidate you. I know you don't have much experience with this kind of thing, but I think you'll handle it just fine. Now, get off to school and stop being so silly, okay?"
"Okay," Christine promised, smiling.
"Good luck, sweetie," Raoul murmured, kissing the top of Christine's head as he pulled up in front of the Mackenzie that evening.
"Thanks, I'm going to need it," she responded shakily, trying to stop her body's incessant trembling.
Raoul did not even bother to contradict her; he knew she was beautiful, talented, and completely worthy of this theatre and the seasoned professionals within it, but he understood that she did not and likely would never feel that she was worthy. Instead, he peered at his phone, which had just beeped cheerfully, informing him that he had received a text message.
"It's from Meg," he told Christine as she reached for the door handle, "telling you that she wishes you luck and to stop being so 'damn nervous'. Oh, and she says she loves you. We both do, Chrissy."
Christine laughed in spite of her inner turmoil. Trust Meg to be frank about Christine's lack of confidence. Meg had desperately wanted to join Christine on the trip to the theatre for moral support, but she had been forced to stay home and do battle with yet another history assignment.
"I love you both too."
"Go on then," he urged, pointing to the imposing glass doors which revealed a sumptuously decorated foyer.
Without allowing herself to hesitate another moment, Christine slid from the passenger seat of Raoul's car, closed the door softly behind her, and walked up to the doors. For one agonizing moment, she had the strongest compulsion to run; to catch Raoul before he had driven far and entreat him to take her home and forget the whole mess. Strangely enough, it was not the comforting words of her friends and her grandmother that convinced her to find her courage, but the words Erik had spoken to her after their final lesson before the rehearsal.
"You are already better than any of those pompous fools in that nest of politics and false glamour. Now go and show them what it is to truly sing! Would you waste all the time and effort we have both invested in this past month for the sake of a few nerves?"
She felt that the nerves were much more difficult to overcome than Erik seemed to think, but she took him at his word, and chose to obey his command. She would go in, sing her song, and pray that they did not dismiss her from the stage with derisive expressions on their faces.
Grasping the cold metal handle tightly, she pulled open the door and stepped inside.
Her shoes clicked noisily against a polished wooden floor, which had been waxed until it shone with hundreds of tiny reflected spots of light. For a moment, she was unsure of where to go, but her gaze fell upon a bored-looking receptionist seated at a large mahogany desk in a corner of the enormous entrance hall.
"Excuse me," she called timidly as she approached the desk, pushing down her feelings of trepidation.
"yes?" the woman asked, not looking up from a sheet of paper that lay before her, pen poised.
"Um…I'm Christine Daaé, and I'm hear for the rehearsal—"
"Ah yes of course. Go on in, everybody else is already here and warming up."
She gestured briefly to a pair of double doors that led into the main theatre, and went back to her paperwork.
Feeling thoroughly cowed by both the grandeur of the place and the unfriendly conduct of the receptionist, Christine thanked the woman and headed for the indicated doors. As she opened them and stepped carefully through, her breath was taken from her lungs at the sight before her. The theatre was enormous—perhaps seating thousands—and there were seats both on the floor and rising upward in a balcony towards the back and on the sides of the room. It resembled a stadium in some ways, and the ceiling was extremely high. Her attention was next drawn to the well-lit stage, which at the moment was alive with activity. People fluttered everywhere, chattering among themselves and shuffling sheet music. A few people were grouped around the grand piano which rested just to the left of the stage, warming up their voices.
As the doors made an echoing noise when Christine released them, one woman detached herself from the group of vocalizing singers, and headed down the centre aisle of the theatre towards her. She was a very attractive woman of perhaps forty years of age or so, with a dazzling smile on her pretty face. She was dressed casually in loose-fitting, comfortable-looking black yoga pants and black tank top despite the frigid weather outside, and she had an air of confident friendliness. Christine felt self-conscious in her more formal clothing, but the woman's smile was reassuring.
"Oh, hello there! You must be Christine! I see you've survived Marlene. Good for you!"
At Christine's questioning look, the woman explained herself.
"Marlene's our dear receptionist," she clarified in an attitude of cheerful resignation "and she's not exactly known for her charm. She's a good worker though, so they keep her around."
Christine laughed weakly, but she began to feel more at ease in the presence of this kindly woman.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," the woman gasped, smacking herself in the forehead dramatically, "I didn't even introduce myself! I'm Carlotta Martinez." She extended a hand covered with flashing rings, which might have looked gaudy had they been on any other person's hand. Somehow, they fit Carlotta and suited her very well. Christine tried not to look as amazed as she felt, grasping Carlotta's offered hand. The name rang a vague bell, and she was fairly certain Carlotta was an internationally famous soprano. Could she truly be performing at the same place as this glamorous opera star?
"Wow! Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Martinez—"
"Pfft! None of that, please! Just call me Carlotta, and I'll call you Christine, sound good?"
"Yes, thank you. I'm honoured to meet you."
"Ah, heard of me have you? Well I'm honestly flattered, but really I'm just another singer who had the luck to make it somewhere. So please don't' let that intimidate you or anything."
Shocked at Carlotta's friendliness and kindness, Christine felt more comfortable in this huge theatre that had never failed to dazzle her. It was so different being in it now that she knew she might be performing upon that stage. She had been too enthralled by the music of 'Carmen' when she had last been here to notice her surroundings , but it truly was imposing.
"Well, Christine my girl, would you like to meet everyone?"
"I'd—I'd love to!"
"Come on then," Carlotta urged cheerily, pulling Christine by the arm towards the stage, where the rest of the vocalists and assorted performers had stopped flitting about and were focused on Carlotta and her new companion. "I'm just visiting really. Normally, I'm based out of Toronto, but I came here for a season or two…you know, to get away from such a demanding schedule and stuff. I love it here, though, and I've gotten to know everyone so well. I think you'll enjoy it here, Christine."
"Okay Christine, introduction time. This is Arianna," she said, pointing to a delicate-looking blonde who smiled shyly at Christine from beside the piano; "Michael, ," a tall, good-looking young man nodded to Christine in acknowledgement; "Tara," a dark-haired woman in her late teens or early twenties grinned unrestrainedly; "Nicholas, our stage manager," yet another extremely handsome man in his thirties bowed dramatically, "Pierre, the world's most conceited baritone," a rather rotund older man simply glared at Carlotta in a mocking sort of way; "Scott, our unbearably meticulous conductor," Carlotta indicated a very short man who had not even lifted his eyes from a sheet of music and was not paying any attention; "and of course, Mercy, who is our valued accompanist" a small, slender woman with a very pretty face and bright, intelligent eyes waved enthusiastically from her seat at the gleaming piano.
"These are just the people who are here at the moment, there are a bunch of other people; dancers, the chorus, some instrumentalists—"
"But we're the important ones." Nicholas, the handsome stage manager quipped with a completely straight face.
After shooting Nick an amused glance, Carlotta turned to face Christine.
"I'll let Nick and Mercy get you set up; I've got to warm up as I was fashionably late today, so I'll see you later. Come see me if you have any trouble, or ask any of us, we're all here if you need us."
"Thanks so much," Christine replied, relieved at everyone's friendliness, with the possible exception of the conductor.
Carlotta simply smiled and darted off through a side door, presumably to warm up in private.
Christine felt momentarily unsure, until Mercy stood up from the piano and made her way towards her new charge. As she approached, Christine was struck once more by her bright eyes and her strong-featured but somehow sweet-looking face. Her smile was as welcoming as Carlotta's had been, but somehow it seemed more…genuine, as though she were not trying so hard to impress upon Christine how friendly she was. Christine's five feet three inches was considered short, and Mercy was even shorter, but somehow her presence was still a powerful one.
"Okay Christine, do you need warming up?"
"No actually. I warmed up before I came here."
Mercy grinned. "Excellent! May I have your music, then? I'll put it in the folder with the others, so that the rehearsal can run a bit smoother."
Christine surrendered the sheet music she had been clutching the entire time she'd been in the theatre to the accompanist, and was rewarded with another grin.
"Gia Il Sole Dal Gan Ge! Ambitious!" Mercy murmured admiringly, examining the music.
. "You're in luck, hon. I've played this a few times before, so you won't have to live through the ordeal of trying to sing while I'm learning the music still. This is going to be great! I can't wait to hear you sing. The suspense is killing all of us, truth to tell. No offense, but you're kind of an unknown—"
"Lesson number one, love, never—under any circumstances—allow Mercy to start babbling on. She builds up a head of steam and can go on indefinitely if she isn't reined in. Just a tip." The handsome stage manager Nicholas had joined them, and was facing down Mercy's glare. Christine noticed that he had a lovely accent that sounded British. Admittedly, for a woman with such small stature, Mercy had an alarmingly terrifying expression on her face. Nicholas took it all in stride, however, and simply ignored her, turning again to Christine.
"Nicholas Harper, and you're Christine… Daaé? Is that how you pronounce it?"
Christine laughed. "Yes, actually. Congratulations." Normally, Christine would have been timid and hard pressed to utter a word among these strangers, but Nicholas' easy charm and Mercy's quick acceptance of her made her brave.
"Nice to meet you, Nicholas—"
"Just call me Nick, sweetheart. We're all friends here, after all. And I always hated Nicholas!"
Laughing once again, Christine glanced over at the others assembled on the stage. Was everyone so friendly around this place? She had expected the people to be more…condescending. Some nobody encroaching on their territory couldn't be easy for them to accept. Erik himself had warned her not to allow them to intimidate her, but he had not seemed overly anxious. Perhaps he did not think these people would be terribly contemptuous of her.
"I'm…I'm so honoured to be here with all of you. I mean, I'm just the average Joe—"
She was cut off by Mercy's dismissive gesture, and Nick's snort. It seemed nobody had any qualms about interrupting people in this place.
"Nonsense, love. We all have to start somewhere. Every single person in this room was just like you at some point. Besides, I'm not even the one with the talent here. I'm just the under-appreciated stage manager after all." Nick pretended to wipe his eyes. His casual use of endearments and his humorous charm captivated Christine, and she decided she liked this man.
Mercy laid a hand on Christine's arm reassuringly. "You wouldn't be here, if you didn't' have an ounce of talent. Now throw those doubts away and come sit. We'll be starting soon. I think Her Majesty has finished warming up, and we can finally get a move on."
Christine saw Carlotta emerging from the same side door from which she had exited the theatre a few minutes before.
"Okay everyone, let's all stop chitter-chattering and get ready to begin, lest we incur Scott's wrath. Come on!" Nick moved into his stage manager role effortlessly, directing everyone off the stage and into the front row of seats.
As if on queue, Scott, the grim-faced conductor emerged from some concealed spot, and surveyed everyone with an expression that said clearly: behave-or-I-will-hurt-you.
"Alright guys, this is it. Unfortunately, a good many of our instrumentalists aren't here yet, because a lot of them are flying in as you all know. So, it's just Mercy today, and perhaps Michael will lend us his violin skills to fill in when he's not singing?"
Michael, the young singer nodded briefly at Scott, as though afraid to say no. They all seemed to respect and even fear their conductor, and Christine felt sure that even Nick would shy away from disagreeing with him.
"Good. We'll follow the program so everyone knows the order. Nick, you're doubling as MC, right?"
"Yes indeedy," Nick replied cheerfully, rising from his seat.
"Alright. I have the stuff you're supposed to say right here, so take a microphone and go ahead. Mercy, take your place, please."
All this was said in a strict, sharp manner that made Christine want to jump to his every wish, though he had not addressed her.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Nick began, in a deep, and unnecessarily sultry voice, hamming it up, "I give you mezzo soprano Arianna Fields, and tenor Michael Carrier, singing a song from West Side Story."
Immediately, the rest of the assembled performers burst into enthusiastic applause, cheering and stamping unnecessarily. After a moment's hesitation, Christine joined in. Pierre yelled out theatrically: "I love you, Anna!" Giggling helplessly, Arianna blew Pierre a mocking kiss, and loped gracefully on stage to stand next to Matthew. Christine thought she must be a dancer as well as a singer, judging by the grace with which she moved. Arianna reminded her of Meg, who had been dancing since she was old enough to walk.
"no love for me? Come on, people!"
"Fine…I love you, Mike!" Carlotta called, pretending to loath the words she uttered.
"Thanks, darling dear. I love you too! Great enthusiasm, there, Carly!"
"For the hundredth time I hate being called that!" Carlotta yelled at him, , fighting a grin.
"Enough! Honestly, it's like working with a bunch of children every time I try to rehearse with you people. I am not looking forward to our next project!" Scott growled at them. Finally, the tiny audience settled down, and Arianna and Michael composed their faces, taking their proper stance.
Christine listened, enraptured at Arianna's soft, very pleasing voice, marvelling at the fact that it was as delicate as her body appeared, and yet it possessed a strength and confidence Christine feared her stronger voice would never achieve. Michael's tenor was rich and appealing, but it still carried a boyish quality which made him sound…adorable. He gave his listener the urge to hug him. Absently, Christine wondered if Arianna and Michael were romantically involved. Their chemistry onstage during this love song was perfect, and they seemed to sing to each other, forgetting the others in the room. The spell was broken halfway through, when Scott made some adjustments, but finally everyone was satisfied and they were allowed to finish the duet unhindered.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, Carlotta Martinez, the well-known and internationally famous soprano, will gift us by singing a passage from "Faust"."
Carlotta swept onto the stage with an air of familiarity and a complete lack of nervousness that Christine envied strongly. She stood up straight, but Christine could not help but notice that Carlotta stretched her neck and lifted her head higher than she should have. Erik had chided Christine a few times about holding her head too high. She could almost hear his voice in her head saying sharply: "You can't expect to hit a note correctly if your neck is stretched out like some absurd goose." Was it possible that a famous opera singer was not following the proper method of standing when she sang? Or did she simply not need to worry about her stance when she clearly had a wonderful instrument?
Mercy began to play, and the opening trill of "The Jewel Song" poured from Carlotta's throat, spilling out into the empty theatre and making the room ring with sound. She sang with confidence, and was very dramatic, slipping into the role with enthusiasm. Christine felt small and insignificant next to this woman, whose great voice danced seemingly effortlessly up and down the scale, reaching high notes with ease, although admittedly her vibrato was a bit heavy. Her French could have used some work as well, Christine noted. Though she was not bilingual herself, Meg and her mother spoke fluent French, and so Christine knew what it ought to sound like. Christine wondered what Erik would think of her slightly overdone style.
And so the rehearsal carried on, with several ensemble numbers and a few more solos. Every song was beautiful, and Christine felt her confidence begin to wane. All too soon, Nick cleared his throat and said: "and now, a newcomer to our stage, Miss Christine Daaé! She will be singing—um, what is it you're singing, sweetheart?"
"She's singing Gia Il sole Dal Gan Ge, dolt. You are a pretty unsatisfactory MC if you don't even know what people are singing!" This comment came from Mercy at the piano.
"Hell, I don't' know if I can pronounce that! And I am no dolt, woman! I'm a fantastic MC, and—"
"Get on with it!" This came from Scott.
"Right! Miss Christine Daaé, singing…that song which I'll practice pronouncing later!"
For one horrible second, Christine felt that her feet had been rooted to the floor, and that she was physically incapable of rising to her feet. Then, she thought of Erik telling her that her voice was lovely. She had to prove herself before these expectant people, lest they think less of her for not even having the courage to sing before them. She could not freeze up, either now or on Friday when the room would be packed to capacity with eager (and likely judgmental) audience members.
Shakily, she rose and clambered ungracefully onto the stage, and turned to face the nearly empty room. Then panic set in with full force. She simply stood, heart hammering painfully in her chest, sweat breaking out on her forehead, mind racing, and body unable to assume the proper stance for singing. Oddly enough, it was Michael's unexpectedly encouraging smile that gave her the courage to carry on. She nodded to Mercy, and the introduction she knew so well took her away from the theatre and from her audience, spiriting her away into the little music room where there was only her…and Erik.
Reaching deep inside of herself, she grasped the joy and ecstatic rapture that the song commanded, and began to sing. At First, her voice came out maddeningly soft and weak, betraying her fear and nervousness. At a gesture from Scott, she injected more power and volume into her voice and allowed the notes to float out of her throat instead of trickling out from between her dry lips.
Wanting to at least stand confidently beside these professional singers as Erik thought she could, Christine did her very best, and prayed it would be enough. Her sweet, crystal-clear voice floated out until it filled the theatre, and she sang with a delight that came from everywhere and nowhere. The rush of performing, even for such a small crowd overwhelmed her, and she revelled in the glorious sound her voice made as it echoed in the vast hall. She ended with a perfectly executed bit of ornamentation, and waited while the final chord died away. And then…silence; one of the loudest silences Christine had ever heard. She waited, and still there was no sound. She began to worry. Had she truly been so terrible? She knew she wasn't leading lady material but they could at least move on to the next singer!
Breaking through the silence, was Nicholas' applause. Then Arianna, Michael, Tara, Pierre, Mercy, Scott and even Carlotta joined in, though for some reason Carlotta looked a bit miffed. The applause was not forced or perfunctory. Rather, it was warm, and very enthusiastic, without any of the dramatic quality it had had before.
Michael smiled radiantly at Christine again, and she felt very warm inside.
Scott coughed once and then said gruffly: "Well…congratulations Miss Daaé, you will be performing on Friday."
Weak with relief, Christine simply stood, unsure of what to do. She could only grin stupidly at all of them, as they unreservedly showed how impressed they were with her performance. Finally, Nick rescued her by stepping back on stage, gripping her by the hand, and leading her back to her seat.
"You're absolutely amazing, love. Good for you," and he pressed her hand gently before releasing it.
Arianna smiled gently at her, and Michael reached over to pat her on the back. Even Pierre gave her the thumbs up sign.
"Well done, Christine," Carlotta said cheerfully, though Christine had a feeling she was not being altogether genuine. Still, everyone else seemed pleased enough, and that was sufficient at the moment. This was so much more than she had hoped for. She had expected that at best, the other performers would allow her to sing, but they would not be happy about it. These kindly people seemed honestly glad she had come. Mercy's glowing smile was yet another reward, and Christine's cup of happiness was filled to the brim. She realized that the one person she could not wait to confide in, was Erik. She hoped with all her heart, that he would be proud.
a/n2: Unfortunately—as you may have noticed—I have found myself without a beta. I am not certain what happened to her, but she has not contacted me or updated her own stories for a long time, and so I presume something has happened to shift her attention away from the internet. As much as I hate to replace her, I must ask for a new beta. Is anybody willing? If you are, either PM me, email me, (my email can be found on my profile) climb through my window at an absurd hour and notify me, knock me out of my chair and proceed to edit my stuff, or leave it in a review. Thanks in advance!
Thanks for sticking with me this far all of you, and please keep reading!
Hugs and kisses,
Es
