The Opera Populaire glittered against the night sky on the opening night of Mireille. True to their word the managers had managed to put on one of the grandest productions Paris had ever seen, with entirely new sets and costumes and every member of Parisian society was there to see it. Celebrations had started early in the evening when some of the patrons invited selected people to a light supper to celebrate a new beginning for the theatre, however the festivities had truly begun when people had started to arrive at the Opera Populaire. Ladies and gentlemen had dressed in their finest to be seen at the premiere of Mireille and tomorrow's newspapers would be filled with all the details.
The public did not seem to notice that Carlotta was not singing and everyone said how wonderful the new soprano was. The stagehands had been on their best behaviour, keeping the alcohol consumption to a minimum, and as a result all the sets and props were ready at the appropriate times. Even Madame Giry had been please with the dancers, giving the older ones her blessing to attend the gala ball later that evening. Meg had been practically giddy with excitement after the thundering round of applause she had received for her solo and there had been a number of bouquets waiting for her backstage in the dancers' dressing room.
As soon as the curtain had fallen after Adele's final curtsey the audience had rushed from the theatre, heading to townhouses and hotel rooms in order to change for the gala ball. Messieurs Andre and Firmin had gathered everyone on stage for a few moments in order to congratulate them on the production, before rushing off to change and be ready to greet the first guests at the ball. Whilst only certain members of the cast had been invited to attend the ball the rest of the employees of the Opera Populaire had planned their own celebration backstage and had eagerly been looking forward to it for weeks.
It seemed that everyone had forgotten the last time they had attended a premiere at the Opera Populaire, as well as the last time they had attended a ball at the theatre. No one had hesitated to accept an invitation to the gala ball and those who had not automatically been sent tickets to the event had swiftly purchased them, regardless of the cost. Even the newspapers had neglected to mention past events when writing about the theatre in the lead up to opening night. It was strange that events that had so enthralled the city only a few months earlier were now entirely forgotten, except by a select few.
Like the other patrons, Raoul had quickly left the theatre at the end of Mireille to change for the ball. As he arrived at the Opera Populaire for the second time that evening he took a moment to take in the view. When he had arrived for the first time that evening he had been too worried about how he was going to feel upon entering the building to take any notice of what it looked like. It had hurt, coming back to the theatre and knowing that Christine still had not been found but despite that he found that he had enjoyed the production and had cheered loudly for Meg when she curtseyed at the end of her solo.
There were dozens of footmen waiting out the front of the theatre ready to help ladies from their carriages, as well as doormen at every door. Lanterns were strung high above them and large torches were burning brightly. Already there were dozens of guest milling on the stairs, waiting for the rest of their parties to exit the carriage so they could make their entrance together. Raoul was one of the few guests who arrived alone and he quickly climbed out of his carriage and walked into the theatre.
"Monsieur le Vicomte," Monsieur Firmin greeted the moment he had crossed the threshold into the theatre. "We're so pleased that you could make it."
"Thank you," Raoul said politely, taking a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, "It's wonderful to be here."
"We were just saying," Monsieur Andre joined in, "How wonderful it is to have all of the patrons here tonight, helping us to celebrate the opening night of Mireille."
"I'm certain that nobody would have wanted to missed tonight's premiere, and of course this wonderful ball." Raoul said, using his flute to indicate that party around them.
"That's so good of you to say." Monsieur Firmin said, obviously pleased with the attention from the Vicomte. "We want this to be a new era for the Opera Populaire."
"The new singers are quiet talented. I imagine they will become very popular if you continue to cast them," Raoul commented, "The dancers were excellent as well." He continued, remembering Meg's solo.
"Yes, a number of the other patrons were quite taken with Mademoiselle Pinard and Monsieur Depres and they have proven quiet popular with the audience so I imagine that we will continue to cast them as the leads." Monsieur Andre observed.
There was an awkward pause as the conversation seemed to die and Raoul started to wonder how he could politely extract himself from the two managers.
"We want to assure you Vicomte, that this ball will not be a repeat of the last one held at the Opera Populaire. We have put precautions in place to ensure that there are no unwanted guests." Monsieur Firmin said, evidently pleased with his attempt to revive the conversation.
"I beg your pardon?" Raoul exclaimed, amazed at the gall of the man to mention the night when he had done his very best to ignore all of Raoul's attempts to track down Christine.
"The Phantom of course, at the Masquerade," he responded, mistaking Raoul's outrage for confusion.
"Firmin," Monsieur Andre tried to hiss discretely, "You remember what he was like. We cannot guarantee anything."
"It seems, Monsieur Firmin," Raoul started coolly, "That there are a great many things that you have forgotten about recent events."
"Monsieur Firmin, Monsieur Andre, what a splendid party." An older gentleman greeted, accompanied by a young woman.
"Ah Comte Murat," Monsieur Andre said, relieved at the interruption, "Welcome. Have you met the Vicomte de Chagny?"
"I know your brother the Comte but I don't believe we've ever formally met," The Comte said good naturedly, offering his hand to Raoul, "This is my daughter Émeline." He said of the young woman next to him.
"A pleasure, Monsieur le Comte, Mademoiselle." Raoul said, shaking the Comte's hand and placing a light kiss of the back of Émeline's.
"I hate to do this at such a delightful ball gentleman, but we do need to discuss that issue I raised earlier this week," Comte Murat said apologetically.
"Oh yes, of course," Monsieur Firmin agreed.
"Perhaps Émeline would like to dance with the Vicomte?" Monsieur Andre suggested.
Although Raoul had no particular desire to dance, he didn't wish to appear rude and offered his hand to the young woman and lead her to the dance floor, leaving her father with the two managers to discuss their business in private.
As they danced conversation was minimal, limited to polite small talk about the decorations and the production. Another man might have recognised that Émeline would have been receptive to more lively conversation but Raoul was too distracted.
He remembered the last time that he had danced in this room, when Christine had been his secret fiancée. Looking around the room, he saw exactly the same people, gathered in the same groups, with the same entertainment. It seemed as though nothing had really changed for these people. Any fear that they felt on that night had long since disappeared and there was no apprehension about returning. But so much had changed for him. He should have been dancing at this ball with his wife, not a stranger thrust upon him by the managers and he should have been genuinely enjoying himself, not just pretending to.
Relieved when the song came to an end, Raoul quickly excused himself, leaving a disappointed Émeline standing in the middle of the dance floor. He kept his head down as he escaped the ball, not wanting to be caught by anyone who might want conversation or a dance. He could still hear the music as he wandered the empty corridors and let himself into a room that he knew had been set up as a small sitting room.
He gently pushed the door shut behind him, although it didn't click shut and he just stood there, allowing his eyes to gradually adjust to the darkness. Once he could see sufficiently to move through the room without running into anything, he walked over to a lounge and collapsed with a groan.
There was a squeak from over near the window and a tentative voice called out, "Hello?"
"Meg?" Raoul asked, recognising the voice.
"Oh Raoul, thank goodness." Meg exclaimed stepping out from where she had been hidden in amongst the shadows and dark curtains.
"You were expecting someone else?" he questioned.
"No. I wasn't expecting anyone," she explained, coming across to sit beside him on the lounge. "Tonight reminded you of Christine," she guessed after a moment, knowing that it was the likely reason behind his escape.
"Yes," he admitted.
"Did you not expect it?" she asked.
"I suppose," Raoul replied, leaning back, "I have spent so much time here, all related to Christine and then I force myself to cut myself off entirely from the place. To be back here again, it is strange. Especially as my reasons for being here have nothing to do with Christine."
"Was it hard?" Meg asked, understanding how he must have felt over the past weeks, as though he was giving up.
"My god yes." He said with a bitter laugh, "I thought that I would go mad with the guilt those first days. Philippe was away in Switzerland and I didn't want to see any friends or acquaintances. I fear that I continued to obsess even though I was no longer actively searching."
"But it did get better," prompted Meg.
"Slowly, it did get better. I had time to think about what I had done, not only with Christine but since then as well. I realised that you were right." He confessed.
"About what?"
"About everything." Raoul said with a sweeping gesture, "And I realised how poorly I treated you. I want to apologise for that."
"Treated me poorly? Why on earth would you think that?" Meg asked, bewildered.
"You had your job here, and even though there wasn't a production your mother still had you in practise and lessons every day, and you were looking after the youngest dancers and then I was dragging you off to search for Christine in every spare moment that you had. You never had a moment to yourself, you must have been exhausted. As a gentleman I should have recognised that. As a friend even more so." He concluded.
"Raoul you didn't drag me off. I helped you search because I wanted to. As I said, Christine is my best friend, of course I want to find her and see her safe. Exhaustion is a small price to pay if we can find Christine." She said gently.
"But still..." he started.
"But nothing. If it makes you feel better I will accept your apology, although I do not believe one is necessary," she offered.
"Good, because I believe one is necessary." He replied defiantly.
The mood in the room lightening, Meg grinned at Raoul.
"So tell me Meg, after your triumph on the stage, why are you hiding away in here? I thought that you would be out there enjoying the ball, dancing."
"I'm not hiding," she defended herself, "I simply need a break from all the festivities."
Raoul didn't respond, but raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
"Oh alright. The ball was fine although I wasn't able to dance as much as I would have liked." She sulked.
"Why not? After your performance I thought that you would have had no shortage of willing dance partners." He asked.
"I was asked to dance by a number of men. However none of the dances were enjoyable." She said, trying to be discrete.
"Why?" Raoul pushed.
"My partners did not seem to know where the appropriate spot for their hands were," Meg informed him, thankful that the darkness would hide her blush.
"What! Who were they?" he exclaimed, ready to jump to his feet.
"I'm not sure. It doesn't matter. There was no real harm done." Meg protested, although it was evident in her voice that she was disappointed.
Relaxing slightly, Raoul thought about this for a moment. "We can hear the music in here."
"So?" Meg asked, confused at the sudden change in conversation.
Jumping to his feet, Raoul gave a bow and asked, "Would Mademoiselle care to dance?"
"Raoul!" she said, although she couldn't hide her smile.
"Please? I promise I will be the perfect gentleman." He beseeched, smiling back and offering her his hand.
Reaching up she placed her hand in his, "I would be delighted to Monsieur le Vicomte."
Meg giggled as he pulled her to her feet and placed his hand lightly on her waist. "Ready?" he asked. Meg nodded as he started to lead her around in time to the music, deftly avoiding any furniture in their path.
They became so caught up in their dance that they didn't realise that the band had stopped playing. As they gradually came to a stop, Meg said softly, "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He replied equally as softly, not immediately letting her go. As he released her he asked, "Do you want to return to the ball?" not entirely realising that he was hoping she would say no.
Meg shook her head, "No. I think that I've had enough excitement for one night. I should go back to the dormitory." She said, covering up a yawn, "I've had my dance, which is what I wanted from tonight." she explained, smiling.
"Shall I walk you to the dormitory?" he offered.
"I don't think it would be wise for you to be seen near the female dormitories." Meg pointed out.
"Right," Raoul said, slightly embarrassed that he hadn't thought of the implications, "At least allow me to walk you through the ball, so that no one bothers you." He proposed, offering his arm.
Smiling, Meg nodded in agreement and tucked her hand around his elbow, allowing him to escort her from the room and back through the ball.
