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June, Paris 1880
It was opening night and Lisette could feel it in the air.
The opera house had been in a near panic that morning when many of the stage hands had come in to find out that part of the roof had leaked onto a backdrop used throughout the entirety of Act IV. Poligny had declared that his health would be ruined by the end of the night if things did not improve. The orchestra seemed to be the only ensemble within the Palais Garnier that was prepared for the evening, but they were also the only ensemble that didn't need to worry about costumes and props.
Lisette and Armel spent most of the afternoon in the ensemble room, making sure to stay out of the way to practice difficult sections and chat about the arrival of Christine Daaé.
"What was she like?" Armel inquired when they were taking a break. "Gabriel has nothing but praises to say about her!"
Lisette shrugged. "She didn't say much and I haven't heard her sing. All I know is that she entered the Conservatoire after both of us left."
"Her father is the famous Swedish violinist," Armel stated. "I believe he came to Paris several times when I was a boy."
"I wouldn't know much about him," she commented. "I was raised in strict German music and hardly got to hear anyone outside of Leipzig or Dresden!"
Armel rolled his eyes but smiled. "I also heard you've been spending quite a lot of time with the count!"
She flushed a deep shade of scarlet, her heart hammering in her chest. "Who told you that?"
"So you don't deny it?" he asked.
"If you consider a brief tour of the performance hall 'quite a lot of time,' then I suppose so," she answered coolly.
"I don't like him," Armel cried, crossing his arms after setting his bassoon in its case.
"Now why on earth do you say that?" Lisette laughed, leaning back on the keys of the piano as she faced him. "The count and his brother are very nice men and they'll give this place some new blood!"
"He's not truly interested in the opera house," Armel scoffed. "They're both bachelors and just looking for a bit of fun!"
"Oh, goodness Armel!" she laughed. "Not every bachelor in Paris acts the way our stage hands too. They're from a more respectable part of society!"
"Respectable from our perspective," Armel said darkly. "Do you have any idea how many of those 'respectable' gentlemen have mistresses?"
"And why are you so interested in the count all of a sudden?" Lisette asked. "You never seemed to care about the other patrons we've had in the past."
"The other patrons weren't dangerous," Armel muttered, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.
"Dangerous?" she exclaimed. "If the count is dangerous, then I certainly must be the most threatening person in all of Paris!"
"I just don't want you to get hurt," he spat, standing and walking over to a nearby window.
"Hurt?" Lisette questioned. "Whatever do you mean?"
"I see the way you look at him!" he said, briefly glancing at her before returning his gaze outside. "It's no secret you admire him."
She felt her face burning and did her best to keep a straight face, trying not to let her embarrassment show from the truth of his words. She stood as well, pretending to organize the stack of music sitting on the closed piano lid, fidgeting through the papers meticulously.
"I admire Count Philippe no differently than any other person here," she said, trying to keep her composure. "I have no expectations of our interactions other than to make a pleasant acquaintance for future collaborations."
"Future collaborations?" Armel sneered. "Don't be ridiculous, Lisette."
"I'm not being ridiculous!" she huffed, turning and slamming a foot on her music. "He admires my playing and has told me so on several occasions. It is not wrong of me to expect future encounters with him."
"But he will never think of you as anything else," Armel said coldly. "Just look at yourself! You're a female pianist, a role that's dangerously out of place in Parisian society and you have-"
He suddenly stopped, immediately regretting what was almost said. She could see that he hoped she hadn't guessed what he was about to say, but it was too late when the tears began streaming down her face.
"Lisette," he said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it… I was selfish to say that. Please…"
Gathering her music in a swift motion, she fled from the room, knowing that among the chaos in the hallway her tears wouldn't be seen. She flew up the many spiral staircases, looking for any kind of refuge away from the crowds of chorus members and ballerinas scattered about trying on costumes and either dancing or singing through their parts for tonight. When she reached the top level, she was amazed to still see so many people around and found a small, wooden door which she entered through.
She almost cried out when she took a step forward and looked down. She was among the catwalks above the stage, looking down as she saw Piangi practicing one of his staged entrances with Gabriel. Debienne was sitting in the audience, nervously staring at his watch. As usual, Carlotta was late, and the rehearsal for the lead vocalists had to go on without her. Across one of the cat walks, Lisette saw a door which led to the opposite side of the stage, which she assured herself was not normally occupied by cast members. She crossed it carefully, looking around in case Joseph Buquet was nearby to scold her, and darted inside the door, shutting it behind her.
She darted up another flight of stairs and through another door before shutting it behind her, letting the tears fully burst forth upon knowing she was entirely alone. Looking around, she found she was in a small room entirely made of wood with wooden beams all around and a curved ceiling. There was a window on a slant looking down and as she glanced in it, she realized she was above the main dome within the auditorium. There was a strange pulley system connected to a rope that ran through the window and she realized it was what held up the chandelier that loomed over the audience's heads.
She sank against the wall, burying her face in her hands, and trying to muffle a scream that wanted to ring throughout her entire body. As she leaned her head back and let the tears flow down her cheeks, she tried to catch her breath. She knew deep down inside that the count didn't admire her in the way she admired him, but they were still just barely acquainted that she couldn't help but hope. She hadn't been admired by a man since before her accident and she was beginning to think she may never be admired again with her distorted face.
"Hello?"
She stood up, darting to the door, not realizing that was the only entrance into the room, and opened the door to reveal Joseph Buquet, a stern look on his face.
"Oh!" he cried, seeing her solemn expression, "My apologies, mademoiselle. I thought…"
His voice trailed off and he shook his head, obviously unwilling to share what his suspicions might have been.
"I'll be out of your way," she said, trying to inch her way through the door.
"Is everything alright?" he asked. "You didn't see anyone up here, did you? No one's hurt you?"
"No," she said softly, avoiding his gaze and desperately wishing he would let her go. "It's just been me. If you'll excuse me, I have a lot of practicing I need to get done tonight…"
He stepped aside, letting her pass, and she did her best to wipe her tears away before descending back to the ensemble room, which she knew would be abandoned by now. If Armel was still there she would go down to the orchestra stalls to practice if the lead vocalists were done with their rehearsal.
However, she was surprised to find Monsieur Debienne standing in the ensemble room, looking thoughtfully around as if he was looking for something.
"Ah, Mademoiselle Geiger," he said upon seeing her. "You'll have to pardon my intrusion. I thought I might find the maestro present."
"I'm afraid not, monsieur," Lisette replied. "Maestro Reyer must still be at home. He normally doesn't show for the performance until an hour prior to curtain call."
"I see," Debienne said, scratching his forehead.
"May I be of any assistance?" she said, seeing his worried expression.
"Oh, it's nothing," he said, waving her question away. "La Carlotta has not shown for the rehearsal and Gabriel is quite close to having a stroke."
Lisette nodded, understanding the man's frustration. "Has anyone been sent to her home?"
"The last time we went someone to check if Carlotta was at home she about ripped the poor boy's ear off," he replied with a scowl. "I'm at my wits end with that woman! I'm praying tonight will be a success or else we will have seen the last of La Carlotta at the Palais Garnier."
She did her best to not show how hopeful she was that his statement might become true and avoided his gaze.
"I look forward to hearing you tonight," Debienne said, making his way to the exit. "This is my last opening night at the opera house…"
His voice trailed off and he looked up quickly, his eyes wide as he realized he had said something which he did not mean to share, but it was too late.
"Last opening night?" Lisette questioned, suddenly keenly interested.
"Oh dear," Debienne said, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Now I've done it. Poligny will not be happy with me when he hears about this. Yes, the rumors you've heard are true. Poligny and I will be retiring in a few months. We're hoping to build up this production so whoever comes in to take over our positions will have an easy transition."
"I'm very sorry to see you go, monsieur," she said softly. "Have you any idea of who the new managers will be?"
"Not yet," Debienne muttered with a shake of his head. "We're currently searching. We're hoping to find someone local with a musical or management background. The Palais Garnier needs to be revitalized!"
The thought of so many changes coming in the near future was terribly exciting. As Debienne left to return to the stage, she couldn't help but pray that God might send the Paris Opera Company a new manager who had a backbone against Carlotta.
The rest of the day continued in the normal chaos. She helped Meg braid her hair and fit into her costume and overheard the gossip among the ballerinas that the count and viscount would be in the audience tonight. Despite Armel's harsh words earlier, she couldn't help but feel a flutter in her stomach every time Count Philippe's name was mentioned. Many of the ballerinas were swooning over how handsome the viscount was, but Lisette merely thought of him as a boy. La Sorelli, however, was unusually soft spoken as the ballerinas inquired about her opinion, simply stating the opera house was lucky to have such generous patrons.
"She's acting quite mysterious, isn't she?" Meg commented when they were alone in the hallway.
"Who?" Lisette asked, braiding her own hair to wrap into her traditional milkmaid hairdo.
"Sorelli," Meg replied, rolling her eyes. "She spent nearly half an hour talking with the count yesterday morning after rehearsal."
"Oh," Lisette said, trying to ignore the jealousy that was beginning to bubble in her stomach.
She saw Meg give her a strange look from the corner of her eye, but ignored it as she pinned her hair to the top of her head. As they rounded the corner to go to the stage where Meg could stretch and Lisette could briefly run through a few passages on the organ, a young woman dressed in a tight fitting dress and pinned up ringlets bumped into them.
"Christine!" Meg cried in delight, taking her arm. "I was wondering where you were! Are you finding your way?"
"Yes," Christine said, smiling at the ballerina. She nodded at Lisette, but again, she was averting her gaze to keep from staring.
"Are you going to be in the production tonight?" Meg asked excitedly. "The chorus's dresses are so beautiful!"
"No, no," Christine said, blushing. "I'm simply aiding Monsieur Gabriel with anything he might need tonight."
"When will you be joining us in the production?" Lisette inquired, smiling as gently as she could.
"I believe next weekend," Christine said. "I know most of the score already from my studies at the Conservatoire, but as the part of Marguerite and I'm having to learn the soprano part in the chorus."
Lisette was delighted to know Christine was familiar with the lead soprano role, meaning she could step in as an understudy in Carlotta were to quit or not show up for a production. Unlike the stark and ridiculous looks of Carlotta, Christine was young and beautiful and had the potential to impress the audience with her looks as well as her talent if her voice proved worthy enough.
"Is the chorus part difficult?" Lisette asked, flicking through her own score to see if she had glimpses of the soprano section.
"Not as difficult as Marguerite's part," Christine answered, "But still very difficult. I'm impressed with the high level of repertoire as well as how well it's performed!"
"Where are you staying now that you've left the Conservatoire?" Lisette inquired, wanting to know more about this young woman's background. "Do your parents live in the city?"
"No," Christine responded sadly. "My parents have both gone to the Holy Virgin. My father died a few years prior to me entering the Conservatoire and he's the only reason why I'm here today."
"My condolences," Lisette said, blushing upon realizing she had brought up a distasteful subject. "I didn't realize…"
"No, no," Christine said smiling, "It's quite alright."
"Christine is from Sweden," Meg said, taking a seat on a nearby prop. Lisette saw a stage hand nearby give the ballerina a dirty look, but said nothing and continued to fix the ropes he was untangling.
"Really?" Lisette asked.
"Yes," Christine replied, a distant look in her eye. "We didn't stay there much after Mother's death. Papa was always traveling and bringing me along. He played his violin in many great cities and always had me sing with him. I can't really say I'm from anywhere!"
After finishing, for the first time since she'd finished speaking, she looked Lisette directly in the eye.
"I've heard you're from Germany," Christine commented. "Is that so? I spent quite a lot of time in Germany with Papa as a child."
Christine's words brought a smile to Lisette's face. It had been so long since she'd had the opportunity to talk with anyone about her homeland who'd also been there!"
"Yes," Lisette nearly shouted, clapping her hands together. "Where in Germany? I lived in Leipzig and Dresden growing up."
"Oh dear," Christine said, smiling weakly. "Unfortunately I've never been to either. I spent most of my time in Hamburg and a small town called Dinkelsbühl which was absolutely charming at Christmastime!"
"I adore Dinkelsbühl!" Lisette exclaimed. "My parents used to take my brothers and me there to the Christmas festival as a child!"
Lisette and Christine continued to chat about their travels in Germany and France until many of the cast members began to file onto the stage, preparing to warm-up before the doors opened for the audience. The two women bid adieu before each making their way to their own destination. Lisette felt elated as she sat herself at the piano, a smile planted on her face that she couldn't get rid of.
In their conversation, Lisette had learned that Christine was twenty, an only child, and lived with her guardian, Madame Valerius, in an apartment nearby the opera house. Christine joined the Palais Garnier in hopes of discovering her passion for singing once more, for she remarked she felt she'd lost her love for music since the death of her father. This conversation had reminded Lisette to be grateful for who she was and her situation, despite how sorry she felt for herself because of her face. Both of her parents were still alive as well as her three brothers and despite her mother having objections to her moving to Paris to continue her studies, she had always been supported for her interest in music. It was a strange society women like Lisette and Christine had grown up in; where they were encouraged to become well-rounded individuals by learning how to play an instrument but being discouraged by making a career out of it.
As she warmed up her fingers with scales and arpeggios, she avoided the gaze of Armel who entered and sat near the other side of the stalls, obviously wanting to catch her attention. She was still upset by his brash comments earlier and would need some more time before she would be able to speak to him with a clear head. As the cast members and ballerinas cleared from the stage, she heard the usual buzz of the audience as the doors opened and the crowd came pouring in, chatting away. The opera was more of a social event that a true appreciation of the arts, but Lisette didn't mind. There were still many attendees who had a deep appreciation for opera who made up a large portion of the ticket sales every season. Although the lip of the orchestra stalls blocked her view of the orchestra seating within the auditorium, she was still able to see the private boxes and the upper levels. She did her best to make it obvious she wasn't searching for where the count would be sitting, but she felt her hands grow sweaty at the thought of him nonetheless.
As she played through a couple of passages from the overture, her hands began to shake and her heart began to hammer in her chest. She remembered her encounter from the previous night and glanced up in terror at Box Five. There was no one there, nor should she expect to see anyone there during the performance, but she knew that if he truly was as brilliant as his music made him seem that he would be watching her one way or another.
Suddenly, with a strange sense of horror, she spotted the count and his brother. However, as the viscount took a seat in their private box, she recognized that they were indeed sitting in the opera ghost's Box Five. She glanced around, to see if anyone had noticed the normally vacant box being occupied. In her time at the Palais Garnier, she had not once seen anyone sit in Box Five. She wondered how the count convinced the superstitious Poligny to let them view the production from there. Despite trying to look occupied, she met the eye of Count Philippe and he smiled warmly which she greatly returned. He nodded and made a signal as if he was looking forward to her playing and she bit her lip to hide a laugh, delving back into her music and ignoring the stares she was receiving from Armel.
The beginning of the opera began and Lisette had to consistently remind herself to concentrate on her music rather than imagine what was going on the stage above them. She couldn't help but glance at the two new patrons, who were obviously intrigued by the storyline already and sitting on the edge of their seats. The entire first act was without Carlotta which made it quite pleasing to listen to with consistently hearing Piangi's tenor range mixed with the primo baritone. Lisette was fascinated with the libretto and longed to see what the production looked like on stage, but remembered how she was being watched not only by the opera ghost, but the count as well. She caught him looking her direction several times and pretended to have her gaze focused on Reyer who was already batting sweat away from his eyes.
When they reached intermission, she felt sweat dripping down her dress and her face. She had never concentrated so fully on a piece of music and for such a long period. She analyzed every movement of her fingers, every pedal she pressed with her feet on the organ, and every adjustment she made with the stops. The orchestra as a whole was concentrating on Reyer's every movement. Carlotta's performances were always unpredictable and the majority of Act II and III was duets between Carlotta and Piangi, meaning that no one knew how quickly or slowly she would take her tempos. When Reyer finally lowered her baton, she thanked God knowing there were only two more acts left before the opera would be over.
The orchestra dispersed, either to go use the restroom or get a cup of tea to refresh themselves after a stressful performance so far. There were several times that the orchestra and Carlotta were not together, but Lisette comforted herself in knowing that she was always right with Reyer's baton. Before leaving the stalls, she glanced at Box Five where there was still no sign of the opera ghost, but saw the viscount whisper something into his brother's ear. He wasn't looking in her direction and she didn't linger in fear of Armel spotting her interest at the moment. She made her way backstage where she found a solitary spot to sit and rest her eyes for a moment, feeling the strain of reading music in such dim light for so many hours.
"Alone, are we?"
She jolted from her spot at the gruff voice, instinctively raising her hand to her face. Joseph Buquet was leaning on a nearby wall, a glass bottle in his hand which he took a long swig from.
"You of all people should understand, monsieur," Lisette replied, keeping her gaze to the side. "I need a moment's silence before going back to the ruckus of the performance."
She hoped her words would give him the invitation to leave, but instead he moved closer, the stale smell of alcohol surrounding them.
"I enjoy being alone myself," Buquet remarked, sitting himself next to her. She did her best to shift away, not hiding how his proximity to her made her uncomfortable. He didn't seem to detect it, for he crossed his legs and took another swig from the jar.
"I often see you here alone at night," he said, smiling through yellow teeth. "It's not safe for a young woman like you to be wandering around in the dark."
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she said, standing. His comments were giving her a strange feeling in her stomach and she wished some of the ballerinas would come closer this way to give them a distraction from this conversation.
"I hope you know I never leave my shift until I know you've gone as well," he said. His arm was loosely resting on the beam behind them, but Lisette did not like the inflection in his voice as he said it. She stood once more, nodding slightly, before making an excuse to go back to the stalls before the curtain rose.
A shudder went up her spine at his words. With her strange face, she'd never thought herself to be an object of prey to men, rather the object of their laughter. However, as she walked away from Buquet and returned to the piano, she felt a shudder go up her spine once more, careful not to glance at Box Five to avoid any attention from Armel who was watching her closely from across the orchestra stalls.
The rest of Act IV and V went as expected. The orchestra sounded phenomenal, working as one voice rather than many different instruments which happened to be playing at the same time. She felt overwhelmed in Act V when Faust and Marguerite sang their final duet together before Marguerite's death. Even with Carlotta's shrill voice, she still felt pity for her character when she played the organ which represented Marguerite's ascension to heaven and felt no sympathy when Faust was committed to hell for his crimes. The show ended with a standing ovation and she could see Reyer's satisfactory smile, meaning there would be no need for a rehearsal tomorrow before the second performance.
The count and his brother were standing, clapping wildly and crying out their congratulations to the cast as the rest of the audience. Lisette again saw nothing in Box Five except for the two gentlemen and gave a warm smile to the count when they caught eyes.
"Well done," Reyer whispered to the orchestra as the crowd dispersed from the auditorium. The opera-goers would spend the next half an hour chatting in the Grand Staircase and Foyer, but she was so exhausted from the performance that she desired nothing more than to go home and fall asleep.
As she was packing her music into her rugsack, she saw Armel approach from behind.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, before scurrying away. She looked after him with a raised brow, wondering how she could possibly reconcile with him after their interaction earlier.
She lingered for a moment longer, pondering if she should go to the Grand Staircase to find the count, but looking down at her plain black dress and swept up hair that it was not within her social rank to go mingle among the many wealthy Parisians. With a gloomy heart, she bid goodnight to the flautists who were packing up their things and went to the ensemble room, finding it empty with most of the musicians already gone.
She anxiously ran to the piano, hoping to find some kind of paper left for her, but there was nothing. Her heart sank once more upon realizing that she wouldn't be able to converse with the count and her performance had apparently displeased the opera ghost. She almost grew angry at the thought. It wasn't her fault that Carlotta performed poorly and made the entire ensemble suffer! She had performed to the best of her ability and she decided that it was the opera ghost's loss for not realizing that.
Upon stashing her music in the seat of the piano bench, her eyes grew wide when her gaze fell onto a single, red rose with a black ribbon tied around it. Lying beside it was a scroll, sealed with wax in the shape of a skull. She glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure no one was in the room, before quickly placing the scroll in her rugsack. There were still too many people present in the opera house for her to play, but her curiosity had grown much too strong. She made up her mind to go to the Christuskirche where she rehearsed for Sunday services and knew it would be abandoned on a Friday night.
Hurrying along the corridors, she paused before entering to take her normal shortcut through backstage. If Buquet had been telling the truth earlier, he would still be here, and she shuddered thinking of what might happen if she were to encounter him alone. Instead, she took the long route by venturing through the ballerina's dormitories and exiting near the front of the building. There were still many audience members filing out of the opera house, laughing gaily from too much champagne and getting into their carriages. She quickly turned the other direction, clutching her rugsack tightly to her and admiring the red rose in her hands, mindful of its thorns.
To her delight, the church was abandoned, the stain glass windows dim and dark. She quietly entered the sanctuary, venturing into the parlor and chapel to ensure there was no one else present, but she was quite alone. She couldn't help but run to the organ, letting the rose fall on a nearby pew and all but ripping the sheet of paper from her rugsack and placing it on the organ.
She gasped immediately at what she saw.
The technique needed to play this passage was perhaps the most difficult she'd seen apart from selections she'd played by Bach and Buxtehude. Not only would her right and left hand be playing entirely separate voices, but the foot pedals would also be a third voice which she would have to bring out despite continuing to play with her hands. It would be a challenge, certainly not doable in one night, but she smiled at the thought of a challenge.
As she played the first few notes, she was delighted to discover that it indeed was a continuation of the first sheet of music she had received. What interested her the most about this second page was hearing how the music was supposed to sound after weeks of imagining what it would be like. It was similar to what she had anticipated, the same melodic theme present in all the voices, but the texture and change in tonality altered it in such a way that it was barely recognizable. She was delighted to find that even here in a separate building, this intriguing work still had the same overwhelming effect on her. As she made it to last page where there was a cadence to give her satisfaction knowing she had finished a section of the piece.
As she sat in silence at the organ after she was finished playing, she began to weep. At first, she was unsure why, knowing that it wasn't the music that had provoked this oncoming of emotions. She was crying because she felt ashamed of herself. Not because of her scar, but from the way she hit behind it. She didn't know how to reach out to others or have confidence in herself. She said a silent prayer to God in hopes that He might show her how to overcome her insecurities. Music was the one thing she could hide behind where people could admire her without admiring her physical appearance, but it was seeming that music was taking over her life and soon she wouldn't know who she was without it.
She moved from the bench and picked up the rose, twisting it in her fingers and smelling its scent, reminding her of the early summer weather outside. As the tears ceased, she wiped her face with the back of her black sleeve, not caring that powder was smeared on it. As she left to go home and catch up on sleep for tomorrow's performance, she wondered if the opera ghost would show himself to her or continue to lurk in silence, teasing her with his music.
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