"Ah! je ris de me voir si belle en ce miroooooiiiir!" The scratching heights of La Carlotta's vocal range pushed out the nearly sour notes as she paraded about the stage in a half-made costume. Behind her, stagehands and artists were scrambling to complete the set for Gounod's Faust. A perfect model of business courtesy, Cecily sat in a chair in the front row, observing the preparations. M. Lefevre wanted things just right for this opera, and Cecily was to make sure things did not go astray.

M. Reyer paused the rehearsal to correct Signora Giudocelli's aria. "Not quite so long on the 'miroir,' Signora."

"It is perfect how I sing it! The note showcase my voice!" Carlotta showed every intention of walking off the stage. Her entourage responded to her beckoning, and the diva had gathered her little dog into her arms before Cecily stepped forward into the patch of light near the orchestra pit.

"Signora, is all this truly necessary?" She gestured at the small mob of people that the opera house was forced to employ for the diva. "Truly, your vocal talent goes beyond your need for constant praise. Such a voice should be able to withstand a simple correction. I understand that the music we purchased was a bit confusing, for which I take the blame. Unfortunately, the situation is uncorrectable for now, and the only clear copy is M. Reyer's. I would consider it a great favor to me if you would allow M. Reyer to inform you of the intended composition." The look Cecily fixed the other woman with was perfect. Enough respect to ease Carlotta's anger, but enough force to ensure that everyone knew that Mlle. Pencombe would not back down.

Finally, Carlotta shoved the small ball of yipping fur back into her costumer's hands. "Si, I do this. Next time, do better, or I may not be so generous!" Gesturing wildly for her music to be returned to her, Carlotta tried again. The note was still a bit of a stretch, but the timing was better. Sighing, Cecily returned to her seat. Moments later, M. Lefevre sat in the seat next to her.

"That was genius the way you handled her. I'm afraid I'm losing my touch at this business. What with that and the other pressures inherent to the opera…." He looked at her poignantly. Both of them were well aware of the messages that had been coming through the manager's office for the past several months. Messages sealed with a red skull.

Cecily's stomach tightened. She had not spoken to Erik since that night and felt a bit of guilt over the reappearance of the Phantom's wrath. He had since taken a very active interest in the running of the opera, taking particular care to emphasize the details that he knew went through Cecily's hands.

M. Lefevre lowered his voice until it was barely audible above the din of the rehearsal. "I thought that you should be the first to know that I will be selling the opera house. The reason this show is so critical is the potential buyers in the audience. I can't take much more of this." He smiled tiredly at Cecily, and for the first time she noticed the lines gathering in the middle of his forehead and the gray hairs sprinkled throughout his formerly black hair.

Not sure what to say, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Thank you, monsieur."

Standing slowly, he nodded down at her, understanding. "I think I shall see Australia…"

---

Cecily bit back another cough as she leaned heavily on her cane. She had been particularly tired of late, but with Faust having been launched successfully, life could slow down a bit. All she needed was a little rest…