Chapter I: Home

What does it say? Oh, Christian, please read it! At the breakfast table in the Everett's comfortable, middle-class home, sat the entire family, waiting for Christian to open the letter from the theatre to which he'd submitted his work. Christian looked up at his sister and grinned.

Here it goes. . . he said dramatically, and slid the paper knife through the envelope. Silently he skimmed the letter, raising his eyebrows at one part. Everyone else was waiting in a suspended state of waiting. After a minute or so, Christian put the letter down and thoughtfully began to eat his eggs.

Margaret shrieked, her normally tranquil disposition vanishing with the excitement. Tell us! Christian tried to hide his smile, but he put the letter down and let his happiness shine out.

They've accepted my play, he said, the satisfaction of it coming through in his voice. And they want me to come to London to be the artistic advisor to it. Margaret clapped her hands, Mrs. Everett smiled warmly, and even Christian's father looked a little less grim than usual.

Wonderful, Christian, his mother said gently, taking a sip of water. I'm very proud of you.

Do they know who's going to be in the play? his father asked, betraying his interest despite his air of intense concentration on his breakfast. Christian picked up the letter again.

They say they're hoping to get this French actress. . . Satine Claudel is her name.

Satine Claudel. . . his mother mused, passing his father the bacon. Isn't that . . .

Who, Mother? Christian asked curiously. His mother frowned slightly, trying to remember.

I think I've heard that name before. She hesitated, then shook her head. Ah, well, if it's important, I'm sure it will come to me.

When are you leaving for London? Margaret asked. Christian shrugged and took another bite.

Soon, I suppose. Whenever I can first get a train ticket.

Eat your breakfast, Margaret, Mr. Everett said, characteristically closing the subject. Meanwhile, in France, a different exchange was taking place over breakfast. . .

To London, then, my dear Satine? The Duke of Monrath glanced up from the letter that Satine had handed him. Satine nodded and took a dainty bite of her food.

It's a lovely theatre-- I did not expect them to honor me with a lead role for quite some time.

Ah, but I did! the Duke cried, straightening his tie as he finished his breakfast. A star, Satine!

All thanks to you, my dear Duke, she said, outwardly fawning over the man while her thoughts had already skipped ahead to what gowns she would pack. The Duke looked pleased and drew out a large bundle of francs.

Go shopping today, my sweet. Satine's face did light up at that.

Will you be able to accompany me? she asked sweetly, crossing her fingers under the table for a negative.

Satine's fingers were in luck. The Duke shook his head regretfully as he signaled for his manservant.

No, my dear. I have business all this morning. Take care, my dear Satine. He bent over her hand and she smiled brightly at him.

Till tonight, my dear Duke, she said, infusing her voice with just enough longing and regret that he couldn't come with her. As soon as the door closed behind him, Satine threw her napkin down and stood up. She smiled, pleased with this turn of events. This was going to be fun.

Several hours later, Satine flounced out of the milliners, her servant following her with an assortment of boxes and bags. She leaned back in the car as it moved back to the Duke's elegant townhouse and sighed. Satine had been troubled by a vague feeling of discontent lately. She couldn't explain why-- she in the very lap of luxury, petted and cosseted by the Duke who indulged her every whim and brought her under the bright lights of stardom. She had several servants, an enormous wardrobe, diamonds, furs, an automobile forever at her disposal . . . and all in exchange for her company. It was all Satine had ever wanted-- to fly away from the poverty of the Moulin Rouge into fame and fortune. It was all anyone could ask for. . . .and yet, still she wasn't completely happy. Something ate away at her. . . like the sideways glances of the cast at the theatre. Satine flinched as she remembered a conversation she'd overheard during the rehearsal of her last show.

Mademoiselle Satine is beautiful . . . a chorus girl sighed, leaning over the edge of the railing. I wish I looked like that. . . and that I could sing like she does.

Even if you did, you'd need something more to be the star, the sarcastic, cutting voice of another chorus member said to her. The younger girl turned to her friend in some confusion.

What do you mean, Nicole? Satine turned pale from where she stood in the shadows.

What do I mean? Nicole's voice was edgy with jealousy and lit up with the idea of some good gossip. You know that Duke that's always with her?

the girl said hesitantly. I think he's very much in love with her. He's her patron, isn't he? Nicole snorted.

Oh, he's in love with her. . . he should be, by the way I hear he crawls into her bed each night! Nicole's friend gasped audibly.

You don't mean that. . .?

Yes, I do. Guess our precious little Mademoiselle Satine isn't good enough to make it on her own without some help. . .

But that's so sad. . . the other girl murmured.

Darling, that's life. Besides, she added, seeing the girl's stricken face. Everyone who's anyone does it.

They shouldn't have to, though, the girl said as Nicole sauntered off. Poor Mademoiselle Satine. . .

The car jostled over a bump in the road, bringing Satine back to the present. She fingered her diamond bracelet and bit her lower lip.

We're home, Mademoiselle, her driver said, opening the door for her. Satine looked up at the imposing facade and nodded.

Thank you, she whispered. She walked out of the car, leaving her glittering packages for the servant to pick up.

she whispered. The servant who took her hat and wraps looked at her quizzically.

Satine shook her head.

Nothing. I. . . I'm going to my rooms for some time. I don't feel well, so please don't disturb me. . . unless the Duke comes, she added as an afterthought. Satine hurried up the grand staircase and sank into the armchair in her dainty sitting room.

A bird in a gilded cage. . . the saying echoed through her head. Could it be that she'd flown away to only to find herself in a different cage? Satine stood and walked over to the window. She could see the beautifully manicured gardens laid out below her and blinked back tears. As if speaking from her soul, she began to sing softly.

Is this home?
Is this where I should learn to be happy?
Never dreamed
That a home could be dark and cold. . .
I believed
Every day in my childhood
Even when we grow old
Home will be where the heart is
Never were words so true
My heart's far, far away
Home is too.

Satine reached out towards the cold glass, her fingers trembling as she touched her reflection. She had always thought that when she was taken care of, she would be happy. When she didn't have to fight for every meal, life would transform into a beautiful thing. . . and she would be home. Her heart never got involved because her body was always fighting a battle to survive. But now. . .

Is this home?
Is this what I must learn to believe in?
Try to find
Something good in this tragic place
Just in case
I should stay here forever
Held in this empty space. . .

Satine shivered. Stay here forever? Surrounded by her empty possessions, living with a man she could neither respect nor love. . . but this was her life. She had chosen it with both of her eyes open. Satine tried to tell herself that this was her home. . . but she couldn't.

Oh, but that won't be easy
I know the reason why
My heart's far, far away
Home's a lie.

For a moment, she almost wished herself back in the Moulin Rouge, where the future always sang with its luring voice to her, asking her to fly away to where she belonged. Then she had always known what she wanted. Now. . . she didn't know.

What I'd give to return
To the life that I knew lately
But I know that I can't
Solve my problems going back. . .

Satine opened the window and sang out to the gentle winds that spun by her window, willing her voice to carry on the springtime breeze to wherever her heart was meant to be.

Is this home?
Am I here for a day or forever?
Shut away
From the world until who knows when. . .

Satine caught a glimpse of the windmill and stared out towards the Moulin Rouge. She remembered singing her fears out when she was staying in the elephant. . . how she'd wanted to fly away to a different place, a better place.

Oh, but then
As my life has been altered once
It can change again.

The Duke couldn't keep her from flying away. Harold hadn't been able to. . . she could always escape to the place where she was meant to be. . . to the place where her heart had already escaped to.

Build higher walls around me
Change every lock and key
Nothing lasts
Nothing holds
All of me. . .

Satine slowly closed the window and sang to herself.

My heart's far, far away
Home and free. . .

Her sweet soprano voice resonated through the empty room, and Satine felt the strangest flicker of hope. It was almost as if her soul knew what her mind could not. . .and that the most beautiful gift her life could give her was about to be revealed.

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Author's Note: I belong neither characters nor songs. Pity.

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Songs used:
-- Beauty and the Beast (Broadway version)