Dear Reader,

Welcome back. What has Erik been up to while ignoring her notes? I apologize in advance for the point of view and story within the story text. I wasn't sure about my use of punctuation and how best to convey the switches. I hope it is not too confusing.

Thank you Ritzybeth and the anonymous reviewer for your kind reviews. Please leave a review, like, and or follow this story if you have been reading it and would like to receive alerts when the next chapters are released. Wishing you all the best fellow Phantom fans.

Chapter 35: Carlotta Giudicelli

Driven by your words, wanting to make amends, I found myself in the stone passageway behind her mirror. The gas lamps illuminated her form as she flitted about her room, commanding her maid to do this and that. Her maid left and she seemed to shrink as she sank to her seat before her vanity. She fingered a pink rose petal that had fallen from one of her bouquets. Then she picked up one of my notes. None of them were very flattering, why had she retained it? I saw her eyes trail across my note, reading my script. "It is true my voice is not what it once was. How can I keep my position, if not Christine, it will be another young soprano?"

As I had long ago with Christine I was drawn to her, her words tugging at my heart and I spoke, "Carlotta," I whispered her name, throwing my voice from behind the mirror. She shook her head, dismissing my voice. I tried again, "Carlotta, Carlotta, it is I your Angel of Music." She made the sign of the cross and looked up as I had projected my voice from above. "I am your Angel of Music."

"Angel of Music, why have you come?" She asked.

"I sensed that you were lost, my child, but I will help you ascend to greatness. Your voice is yet unrefined and in need of lessons. As your Angel of Music I can provide this to you."

"You would tutor me?"

"I caution you, that you must work hard because there are many souls who are in need of the Angel of Music."

"I will dedicate myself, my Angel," she swore.

"Let us begin," I said.

She sang and instead of leaving as before at the sound of her voice, I stayed, listening for how I could best correct and instruct her.

"That was a good start. Let us work on the clarity, fullness and roundness of your notes. I sense that you are straining, overreaching and compensating for this lack by allowing yourself to go flat and brass sounding." Her face had a chagrin look, not at all the look of the diva I was accustomed to. "Let us begin with your warm-up and vocal exercise that will strengthen your ability to control your voice."

Carlotta took my constructive criticism in stride, and she was tenacious in her devotion to the lesson and her practice. I did not think it was in her to work with such dedication but she was early to lessons and I could hear her practicing almost daily if rehearsals permitted and they had not tired her voice.

I found I began to look forward to my lessons with her almost as much as with you my dear. Once more behind the mirror wall I found her waiting for me. "Carlotta, I hear you practicing and your attentiveness to my coaching has not gone unnoticed. Thank you for valuing our time together."

"Oh my Angel of Music, it is I who am most grateful." It has been a very very long time since I have had lessons, and never from a teacher as astute as you. I can hear how you have improved my voice."

"Why is that my dear, surely you can afford lessons?."

"No, I cannot be my Angel. I do not have sufficient funds. You see I refuse to take a subscriber. I cannot let a man have the power to hurt me."

The vehemently of her last statement shocked me. "Who has hurt you, Carlotta? Piangi?"

"Oh, no, not Piangi, he would never, he is the gentlest of men." I thought my Angel couldn't say that of me. "He adores me. The he who did the hurt was my father."

"How?" I uttered completely drawn into her narrative.

"My mother, she lived and breathed the opera house here. She started as many do as a ballet rat. He was charming and all smiles I imagine. My poor mother fell in love with her subscriber and he promised to care for her always. He was unhappy in his marriage but unable to leave his wife. Such is the way of the ballerina life at the opera house. She found herself with child and she went to him. He refused her, breaking his promise, wanting nothing to do with her. Now she had two to live for and not one.

I can only imagine how my mother felt."

"Most men feel that women are theirs to use and abuse." I flinched at her words. Had I not used you my Angel? "I see it in all levels of society. Is it alright to expect one sided faithfulness? But can women be on their own? Why can we not be seen as equals as humans, and not property, or disposable?"

I had always observed Piangi to be a spineless sort but now I saw him from her perspective. He was safe and gentle. He adored her and would likely never leave her.

He would never have hurt her as I did you, my Angel.

"I was born here and surely I will die here, within these walls." she said. Her last words seem to resonate with me for I believe I too will die here. I was torn between wanting to know and not wanting to pry, understanding the need to keep secrets, to stay safe. She however must have felt she was unburdening herself to her Angel for no prodding was required.

"My mother was not the first to have this happen to her so the older women helped her gain a position as a seamstress before she was showing. She was fond of telling me how she concealed me beneath her sewing. She was always at work on some large project while sitting down enveloped in yards of fabric when the men ventured to check the status of the costumes. Thankfully I was a quiet babe because she hid me from the world and I grew up among the bolts of fabric and kind women who would sneak off on breaks to watch me. It was a game for me to squeeze between the bolts of fabric before the room was invaded. She smiled as if remembering a fond memory.

Before long I began to resemble a very young ballet rat. When I was 10 my mother came to me and told me I would be taking music lessons with a voice teacher. My mother agreed to sew one of the sopranos a few day dresses in exchange for my lessons. I helped my mom late into the night with the task. ' Do you know what your name means, my dove she would ask?' 'It means strong, equal to a man', I would reply as she had couched my response. "My Carlotta, no man shall rule you, you will be the soprano to command the stage, reigning the opera house with your voice. You will have to work hard to earn a position and to keep it. Men will try and tempt you with sweet words, my little Carlotta, but you must stay true to your path so that you can have an easier life than your poor mother. I pray you never have my heart break.'

"She at least lived to see me sing the lead ironically in La Traviata when I was 15."

I thought, how ironic that her daughter, who she tried to keep pure, played the role of a fallen woman at her debut.

"Did she send you to help me?" she asked in the most timid of voices, so un-Carlotta, if you please.

What could I say? I have lied before and yet I was trying to be good. But I reasoned I had already lied that I was her Angel, ignoring my monstrous corporal form.

"Yes, child, your mother is in heaven and she sent me to aid you." And then I heard her release the breath I didn't know she was holding.

She looked upward, "Thank you, Mama, thank you Angel!"

I felt as if I had truly talked to Carlotta and not the persona she had crafted to protect her as I had done with the Opera Ghost facade. She only wanted to survive and I understand that desire to be left alone, to distance oneself from people that could hurt you, to wear the mask.

If at all possible she threw herself into her lesson and practiced with more zeal. Thus my thoughts on her softened more as I continued to instruct her. Her mother's dream became mine too as I strove to hone her voice, pushing her to be the diva her mother wanted. Her voice had been neglected but within a few weeks I could hear the positive changes. I noticed that her happiness with her voice spilled into the other aspects of her life. My Angel, she had started to treat you and others with kindness. I began trying to think of a way to repay her for helping to make you feel welcome, for offering you a night to sing in her stead.

I have been collecting a salary from the managers for many years and I have little expenses. I transferred some funds to an account I started in her name so that she need not worry for her future.

She brought up my gift at our next lesson, "Angel, I had the most astonishing thing happen."

"What is that Carlotta?" I asked.

"I had a mysterious benefactor who does not wish to be known, create an account for me." she said while twisting her handkerchief.

"Are you happier now?" I asked.

"I am scared." She replied fretting.

"Why ever are you scared?" I asked, this was not the response I had expected.

" I dare not touch the money because there will be strings attached to it." She had begun pacing before the mirror continuing to twist her handkerchief. "I wonder what he will want? I do not like not knowing."

"It is alright, Carlotta. It is I who transferred the funds and there are no strings attached."

"Angels have money?" she asked in astonishment, ceasing her motion.

"Only when there is a need from a good one such as yourself."

"I do not think I am good enough to deserve this blessing but I will strive to be." My dear Angel, I did not realize I had it in my power to work such a transformation, that I could help another.

Then one morning Carlotta sang and I wept.

"What is wrong my Angel?" she asked, hearing my voice change.

"Your voice is now a thing of beauty and you have dared to touch the heavens above.

And she cried too, "Thank you my Angel of Music."

"Promise to be kind and pass on your blessing to others."

"I promise my Angel. Will I hear you again?" She asked me.

"I am not long on this earth but I will come when I can. You are ready to astonish them my dear." And so Carlotta did.

If only Erik could be a vocal coach to others. He seems to have a gift.

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