Paris, March 1881
Lisette stared up at the large building, shielding her eyes from the glare of the glimmering letters that spelled Conservatoire de Paris. Erik's manuscript was clutched against her chest as she steadied herself and pushed through the large doors to the main entrance.
It had been over a week since Lisette had shown Erik the finished opera, but he had insisted going through it again and again, having Lisette play while he sang to make sure everything was perfect. She had finally set up a meeting with the board of the Conservatoire as well as with some of the composition professors to premier the opera and hopefully attract patrons that would be willing to support and convince Richard and Moncharmin for a full premiere at the Palais Garnier.
As she sat in the hallway outside one of the small performance halls, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Would Erik and she really be able to pull this off? Erik was an unknown composer and he had refused the possibility of revealing himself as a man rather than the Opera Ghost to Paris. What made the idea ridiculous was not that it was essentially written by an unknown composer, but that half of the opera was credited to Lisette. Paris was yet to see any female composers' work being premiered, let along at the center of Parisian society. Even in Germany, Clara Schumann's work was just beginning to be published, and she had the accreditation of at least being married to a world renown composer.
"Mademoiselle Geiger?" A short, plump man with round glasses peered from the entrance of the performance hall. "We're ready for you."
Due to the fact there was only one manuscript available, Lisette delicately set the papers in front of the board members on the small table in the performance hall. She couldn't help but cringe as she watched the man who called her in, obviously the president, haphazardly flip through the pages. Erik would have a fit if even a corner of one of the pages was bent.
"Mademoiselle Geiger," one of the board members said, smiling as he leaned back in his chair. "I am Ambroise Thomas, the director of the Conservatoire. I've already heard much about you. My colleagues created quite a stir when they added a female to our faculty."
Several of the piano and organ professors sat in the house, shifting awkwardly in their seats.
"I trust you will find my teaching satisfactory," Lisette said pleasantly.
"And your playing too," Monsieur Thomas said. "You are a graduate of the Conservatoire?"
"Yes," she replied. "I finished my studies here three years ago and was at the Dresden Conservatory before that."
Monsieur Thomas glanced at the other men at the table. "Ah, German! So, Mademoiselle Geiger, what have you brought to present to us?"
"Don Juan Triumphant," she said. "Written by myself and… a friend."
"A Monsieur Giovanni?" Monsieur Thomas said, peering at the first page of the score.
"Yes," she said. "Unfortunately, he is not from Paris, which is why I am here by myself."
"Italian?" another member of the board asked.
"Yes," she said, thankful Erik had helped her forge a story beforehand. "We met in Dresden before he returned to Venice."
"Well, we anxiously await this preview you are going to give us," Monsieur Thomas said, motioning to the piano on stage.
Erik had told her to play the duet between Don Juan and Don Gonzalo in the third act, where Gonzalo summons Don Juan to hell for seducing his daughter. It was a powerful duet, with images of hellfire and lust spawning the lyrics while a hint of Dies Irae was played in the orchestra, foreshadowing Don Juan's downfall at the end of Act IV. As she played, she closed her eyes, imagining Erik was watching her performance, critiquing every note. She was determined to not return to the opera house without affirmation of his life's work being accepted.
When she finished, she could feel sweat running down her temples and her dress sticking to her lower back. She gently removed her hands from the kes and folded them delicately in her lap. The silence was unbearable and she wondered if this entire endeavor had been a mistake. But a clapping from the back of the performance hall broke the silence. One of the Conservatoire's composition professors stood, his enthusiasm blatant as he praised her music. Others followed his lead until the entire room was filled with applause and cries of "Brava!" Only Monsieur Thomas remained sitting, but his pleased expression gave away his verdict.
An hour later, Lisette found herself in one of the many lecture halls used as a study room for current students. The board was busy in another room discussing payments and contracts to have Don Juan premiered at the Palais Garnier and she was content listening to the excited chatter around her from young students. The walls of the lecture hall were lined with scores, many originals written by the professors themselves. As a student, Lisette had spent many hours in this room studying them for her composition classes. This room held original copies of some of France's most famous composers. However, the presence of a rather unusual figure entering the room made her face turn pale white.
She turned in her seat, praying she hadn't been noticed. Her head turned ever so slightly so she could see from the corner of her eye. The count, of all people, had entered the lecture hall. Lisette shouldn't have been surprised, as patrons of the opera house were often frequent visitors to the Conservatoire, but this was the first time she had seen him here since he'd arrived in Paris.
He seemed to be immersed in the manuscripts on the wall, lightly running his fingers over them. MAny of the students in the room were so concentrated in their conversations and studies that they barely noticed the stranger. He at last stopped in front of a large, bound book. Casually looking over his shoulder, he removed it from its shelf and flipped through its pages. Glancing over his shoulder once more, he tucked the score under his arm before leaving as quickly as he came.
Lisette let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and clasped her hands together to stop their shaking. She made her way over to the pile of manuscripts where the count had been. There was now a large, gaping hole where the score had previously been and she gently laid her fingers on the empty shelf. The name "C. Debussy" was written above the empty space. Why was the count interested in Monsieur Debussy's work? She couldn't bring herself to believe that the count was such a man of art that he would be aware of the up and coming composer.
Before she could ponder the thought any longer, Monsieur Thomas came to retrieve her. All thoughts of the count were temporarily lost as he relayed to her that they had received several patrons and Richard and Moncharmin had agreed to premiere Don Juan Triumphant at the Palais Garnier.
Lisette nearly ran the entire way back to the opera house, far too excited to share the victory with Erik. Once Parisian society heard Erik's work, she knew there was a strong possibility he would come out of hiding and be considered one of the greatest composers in all of France.
As she burst through one of the back entrances, she collided with a tall, lean figure, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
"Ouch! Lisette! Can you please watch where you're going?"
Sorelli lay in a heap on the floor, her bun knocked to one side of her head and her many pairs of pointe shoes scattered around them. As Lisette helped her collect her things, she was surprised to see tear stains on Sorelli's cheeks.
"What's happened?" Lisette asked.
Sorelli glanced over her shoulder as backstage was still bustling with ballerinas from their previous rehearsal. She took Lisette's hand and led her to the prima ballerina's dressing room, before letting her shoes tumble from her hands once more and sinking into a nearby armchair.
"Philippe was just here," Sorelli said. "I knew it would happen eventually, but wasn't expecting it to be so sudden. He told me we couldn't continue to see each other anymore."
Lisette's heart sank, remembering the words the count had spoken to her weeks ago in the Grand Foyer. She hadn't been certain if her rejection would affect his decision to break with Sorelli, but it seemed not. She sat next to her friend and put an arm around her shoulders.
"I really shouldn't be surprised," Sorelli said, wiping fresh tears from her face. "But I can't stand to be near Christine after this. Always flouncing around with the vicomte not far behind… I seriously think he's going to ask for her hand! How can a vicomte be allowed to take a prima donna for his wife but the prima ballerina is too far below the Comte de Chagny? It doesn't make any sense!"
"No, it doesn't," Lisette agreed, wishing desperately she could tell Sorelli all about Christine's behavior. Even Erik had agreed that Christine was acting foolish.
"She's in for a nasty surprise," Sorelli said. "Philippe seems to know his brother will ask for Christine's hand if he doesn't put a stop to it. I wouldn't be surprised if they left Paris altogether to prevent a scandal. He said they both need to marry well to ensure the future of their family."
Lisette spent the next half an hour consoling Sorelli before excusing herself. Despite feeling sorry for her friend, her excitement to tell Erik the good news was threatening to burst from her. She nearly clawed her way through the passageways, beaming from ear to ear. As soon as she reached the doorway, she cried, "Erik!"
He was by her side almost immediately. She could see the white bandages from his wound beneath her shirt, which had thankfully healed immensely over the last few days. He tried to hide his grimace of pain as he reached for her arm. "How was it?"
"Brilliant!" she said, willingly taking his arm as he led them to the bedroom where there was a roaring fire and hot coffee waiting. "The board and professors were enthralled. They spent nearly an hour studying and praising your work."
"Our work," he corrected, letting Lisette settle in front of the fireplace before offering her a cup of coffee. "Do we know when it will be premiered?"
She shook her head. "They're arranging a meeting with Richard and Moncharmin to officially introduce the work. It's about time we took on another opera. I have a feeling Faust will soon lose its appeal if we continue to perform it."
Erik nodded in agreement before settling himself on the floor among the plush cushions. As he leaned into his side, he let out a hiss of pain, nearly causing Lisette to spill the coffee in her mug. She was immediately by his side, carefully unbuttoning his shirt to check on his wound. Nadir had promised to make sure the wound was being cleaned, but Erik had sent him back to his apartment after the two had gotten into a disagreement. Lisette knew better than to ask what it had been about, but she knew Nadir constantly criticized Erik's habit of living beneath the opera house. When she unwrapped the wound, she was glad to see it was mostly healed and not bleeding. Erik winced when she lightly touched it, but didn't pull away.
"It's about time to take these stitches out," she said. "You really shouldn't have sent Nadir away. I'll need his help to get these removed."
Erik rolled his eyes. "You're more than capable of removing them yourself."
When she began to button his shirt, his hand caught hers. She looked up, taken aback by the motion, not sure what she had done wrong. His eyes pierced hers, but there was something different in his stare.
She had not done anything wrong. His gaze was transfixed and enticing, like she had never seen. Her fingertips were mere inches from his bare chest, her face beginning to flush.
"I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me," Erik said. "I never thought a year ago I would have this opera completed, let alone in preparation for a premiere."
Fighting the blush in her cheeks and the beating of her heart, she gave a weak smile. "I never thought a year ago I would be in the home of the Opera Ghost."
He laughed at this, before releasing her hand and removing his mask. It was such a natural movement that Lisette was surprised to realize he'd been wearing it at all. This was one of the few times that he'd removed it without being requested to do so in her presence, and she couldn't help but let her eyes wander from the blemished and unblemished portions of his face, taking them in as perfection. After putting his mask to the side, he gently ran his fingers over her scar. She closed her eyes, listening to the hammering of her heart while at the same time wishing his touch would never leave her.
"Lisette," she heard Erik say. "I didn't realize that it wasn't your playing or musicianship that I needed… it was… you."
She opened her eyes to find Erik's hand loosely resting on her cheek. The long, bony fingers moved slowly as they brushed the wisps of her hair that had come loose from her braid from her face. Instinctively, without hesitation, she reached for the exposed part of his face. He didn't flinch, but rather leaned into her touch. His eyes closed and a gentle sigh escaped his parted lips. They remained locked in this embrace for what seemed like a lifetime: his fingertips in her hair while her hand traveled along his bumpy flesh. But at last, his eyes slowly opened and they found themselves leaning forward until their faces were mere inches from each other.
"I wish you wouldn't hesitate," Lisette said boldly, praying she hadn't said the wrong thing. Her fears evaporated immediately when he closed the gap, his lips planted firmly on hers. The kiss was awkward, and Lisette realized that this was probably his first. She helped him, by leaning into him and parting her lips ever so slowly so they could move more easily against his. She felt a ripple of pleasure run through him at the subtle movement and she let one of her hands tangle in his hair. The hand in her hair tightened as well, bringing her impossibly close, to the point where she was afraid she wouldn't have enough air to breathe. But he gently released his grip, his lips at last leaving hers, and stared at her with eyes swimming with tears.
In that moment, Lisette understood that she had left Germany for a reason, and the very reason had been to find this man that would continue to push her beyond her musical limits.
She smiled.
And beyond the limits of her hardened, forgotten heart.
A bit of a longer chapter! Please don't forget to rate and review!