The Canary's Fledgling

The next day, Christine was rehearsing with Marigold at the theatre with Frans accompanying on the piano. Erik was in busy at work in the office, planning for the gala. With only less than a fortnight away, everyone was in hasty preparation.

"You mustn't be so nervous when you sing with me, Marigold. Don't try to hide your voice behind mine. Let the audience hear you as well. Now, let's try once on this measure with 'Doucement glissons…'

Doucement glissons de son flot charmant

Suivons le courant fuyant

Dans l'onde frémissante

D'une main nonchalante

Viens, gagnons le bord,

Où la source dort et

L'oiseau, l'oiseau chante.

Sous le dôme épais

Où le blanc jasmin

Viens, descendons ensemble.

"That was better, dear! See how much better you sound when you don't try to hide behind my voice."

"Yes, Mother."

"Thank you, Frans. I think we should take a rest," said Christine, as they sat down. "Well, we have less than two weeks until the gala. Have you found an aria to sing yet, Marigold?"

"I…I haven't, Mother," she sighed sadly.

"But, my dear, you need to make a decision soon. The orchestra needs time to rehearse." Christine then saw how anxious Marigold looked. "What's troubling you? Please tell me."

"Oh, Mother, I'll never find the right song to sing! I'll never be as good a singer as you, the audience will just laugh at me, and Papa will never forgive me. I just don't think I can do this after all." Marigold was all but close to tears.

"Darling, don't fret. We will find you a song. What songs have you heard that you may be interested in?"

Marigold sighed. "I don't know. Papa told me 'When you feel the hidden fire growing as you sing, that's the song meant for you'. But I just haven't found the muse. The only song that has ever made me feel like that was the…the song that you sang for Papa. It's…such a beautiful aria. The most beautiful that Papa has ever written. But I know that he wrote that for you and he wants you to sing it. I could never sing anything like that."

Christine saw the sadness in her daughter's face and her heart broke for her. For a while, she noticed how anxious and discouraged Marigold had been. She wanted Marigold to sing that aria, but Erik had discouraged the notion thinking that she wasn't ready for it. Then, an idea just struck her.

"But, you will because…it will be you who will sing the aria at the gala," Christine said, smiling. Both Marigold and Frans looked at Christine, looking dumbfounded at what they just heard.

"Mother, what are you saying?"

"I said you will sing the aria at the gala."

"But…Papa wrote that song for you. What if he thinks I stole it? What if I sing it badly and he becomes angry at me?"

"You did not steal it because I'm giving it to you. And you won't sing it badly because Frans and I will help you. I'll teach you whatever you need to know."

"But what will Papa say?"

Christine smiled. "Don't you worry about Papa. You will sing it at the gala, everyone will love you, and after he hears you sing, he will be the proudest he has ever been of you."

"But he thinks you're going to sing it, not me."

"And that is the perfect opportunity to play a little surprise on Papa. He needs to finally let you spread your wings and soar. Frans, you won't speak of word of this to Erik, will you?" asked Christine.

"Not a word, Madame Christine. I promise," said Frans, giving a wink.

That evening, when everyone was at home, Frans was keeping Erik occupied in his study as Christine took Marigold aside into the bedroom and locked the door.

"Now then, while Frans has your father distracted, I'm going to show you what you will wear for the gala," said Christine, pulling out a covered garment from the wardrobe.

When she pulled over the cover, Marigold marveled at the soft yellow ballgown and matching feathered bird mask.

"I wore this dress on the night of the All Hallows Eve masque ball in Paris, not too long after my debut on the stage. Your father always calls me his 'little canary', not just because I sang but because my favorite color was yellow. He came to the ball dressed as a hooded black crow."

Marigold softly laughed as Christine pulled the gown out. "Oh, it's beautiful, Mother."

Christine helped her changed as she fastened the dress around her and place the mask on her face. She marveled at how her daughter nearly identical to her. "There. You look exactly like I did the night of the ball."

"But what if Papa thinks that I am you in this dress?"

"Well, you can come on the stage wearing this mask, then when the timing is right, take the mask off so that everyone can see you, including Papa. It will be a great surprise."

Marigold smiled until a thought struck her. "Mother, if I'm singing your song, what aria are you going to sing?"

"I decided to sing The Jewel Aria from Faust. I've always wanted to sing that one again."

"I just hope Papa won't be angry at me, for thinking I stole your aria," said Marigold sadly.

"I told you I'm giving it to you. You haven't stolen anything. I think you should sing it more than I. The gala is meant to be your debut and you must be the one to shine. Don't you worry about your father. He may be a little surprised at first but I know that he will love it, just as he loves you."

"I hope so."

"And I think someone else will be equally entranced to see you in that gown. Another special man."

"What? Do you mean…Frans?"

Christine smiled knowingly. "I've seen how he has been looking at you as of late."

"But, Mother, Frans is…a friend. A childhood friend. Someone I climbed trees with as a child, went to school with, and read fairytales with. We grew up together. How can he possibly have feelings for me?"

"Well, he is not your brother. Papa and I took him on as our ward. Not exactly the same as adoption. But he is an important part of our family and I've noticed how differently he looks at you. He has been kinder and helpful to you. He looks as though he wants to tell you how he feels but isn't sure what to say."

Marigold thought long and hard. As she and Frans grew up, she only slightly noticed how much more handsome he grew. Though for the first time, she noticed how much she had grown as well. She was looking more and more like her mother. She went from a girl to a lovely, young woman in a short time. She never thought that Frans would notice her in such a way. What would he think when he sees me in this dress?

As Christine helped her change back into her dress, she placed the gown back in the covered holder. "Now you need to hide this in your wardrobe. Don't let Papa know you have it."

"Thank you, Mother. This dress, the aria…this all means so much to me. Thank you."

Christine embraced her. "You're welcome, my dear."