One month later…

So it had come. The long-awaited opening of the Atlanta Opera House.

Everyone of social prominence in Atlanta was expected to attend. The Meades, the Merriweathers, the Elsings, the Wilkes…

I could not help but sneer silently to myself at how small-minded these families were. They thought that they were royalty and owned the world. Only a small matter of the War Between the States ruined things for them. And yet how many of these nobles had ever been beyond the state of Georgia? What did they know of the world? Did they think they were the only ones who had suffered through war?

Even Ashley Wilkes, with all of his kindness and charm, seemed to have a manner that suggested that he had truly been meant for better things.

However, I was quite impressed with one particular Southerner...Brett's father. Captain Rhett Butler.

Only a few days ago, I made the acquaintance of this man I had heard so much of from Brett.

While Brett had made his father sound as if he were an ill and broken man, I did not find him to be such. He was not that much older than Erik, in fact. And even though he walked with a cane, he was devastatingly attractive. With slightly graying black hair slicked back along with a raked moustache, he shared a marked resemblance to his son. But he also had a charisma and confidence that was entirely his own.

And he was also damned impertinent as he practically undressed me with his eyes as he introduced himself to me.

"So this is the famed Atlanta Opera House I have heard such tell about!" he said in a loud boisterous voice. "And you must be Miss Angelica DuBois, the esteemed director..."

So charming was Captain Butler that he actually succeeded in winning me over for a night out at dinner. And I had to admit that it was the best meal I had eaten in Atlanta at a very expensive restaurant. They served nothing but the finest food and wine. So engorged was I after such a large meal that I had yearned to take off my corset.

He was no man with nostalgia of the Old South. With honesty and candor that was like a breath of fresh air, he admitted how the Confederacy had been so arrogant, so certain that they would win the war with "nothing but cotton and slaves and arrogance". However, he was enough of an opportunist to make a profit out of the war. While I admitted that I had little experience with war and politics, he seemed to have acted very shrewdly with the cards that he had been dealt.

Captain Butler was quite good at drawing out our conversation. As I enthusiastically began to speak of how I was learning to run the business and keep the books and such, a sad look came over his eyes as if he were thinking of someone else. From recalling Brett's story, I realized that he was more than likely thinking of his former wife. Although he remained polite as ever, the evening came to an abrupt end as he escorted me back to the dormitory.

Although I was not sure that I really wished to ever be involved with another man as long as I lived, I could not help but sulk. Was I always doomed to take second place to another woman?

I sighed with frustration as I tried to concentrate on the task before me. For the most part, I had no complaint with remaining in the dormitory. As I had no furniture or belongings of value, the simple room suited my needs. Except that I did not have a sufficient mirror about…

And tonight, I was required to look perfect.

Even though Brett had just arrived from his business trip in Paris the night before, having been gone for almost an entire month, he had been full of demands. He insisted that I was to dress like a queen tonight. That he had grown tired of the plain gingham dresses I had taken to wearing. That he did not like my hair pulled back in a severe bun. That I needed to look like a woman of social prominence and not like an old maid schoolmarm.

"I should like you to wear this…" he suggested as he handed me a box.. Inside was a forest green ballgown that he had purchased on his travels. Lined with silk and velvet, the dress was exquisite. He then instructed me to have the costumer of the Opera House make the necessary alterations.

So with my blondish red hair piled high atop my head, I looked like the beautiful ornament that Brett Watling wanted for his new theater. And I felt just as dead as any of the expensive museum pieces that he had strategically placed about the lobby.

I left my room, crossing the cobble-stoned street to the theater. The back dressing rooms would have sufficient mirrors for my purposes.

I noticed that it was only an hour or so until the performance was to start. Since I had delegated the duties for the night so thoroughly, I had left nothing to do myself. But watch and wait and primp before the dressing room mirror.

As I entered the dressing room, Beau Wilkes and Ella Kennedy were already there, seated in their costumes.

In order to appease Brett, I had apologized profusely to Ella for my harshness of a month ago. Yet apparently my lecture had done her a great deal of good. She had blossomed into a beautiful little singer right before my eyes. Not only could she be heard and understood, but every moment had meaning for her. There was not one second during the song when she was not completely in character as Beauty. She would be every bit the success that Brett was hoping for.

To my disgust, Beau Wilkes was still a hopeless disaster. I could hardly contain my scowl of disdain as I saw him fully dressed and completely unrecognizable as the Beast. It didn't matter how early he was for the performance. His voice was not going to improve any for it.

While Beau sat before his dressing room mirror in silence, Ella chattered like a little bird.

"Beau is being extremely silly tonight, Miss DuBois," she giggled. "When I arrived, he was already all dressed up in his costume. And he will not speak a word to me. But he has written a note saying that he wants to save his voice for the stage."

"You are right, Ella. Beau is being absurd!" I said, casting a glance at him.

If there was any response from Beau, I could not see it as his face was entirely hidden by the fearsome mask of the Beast costume.

While the theater of the Opera House was quite grand, the dressing rooms were tiny and cramped. I had no choice but to squeeze into the chair between Ella and Beau, practically falling into Beau's lap as I attempted to do so. And in the process, I managed to drop my comb and had to bend over to retrieve it. Although it was hard to tell, I could have sworn that Beau Wilkes was devouring my exposed bosom with his eyes. That nasty wretch!

"Oh, I am so excited about tonight I can hardly contain myself!" Ella chirped as she began practicing her scales.

Again came that sweet rich sound of her voice that I was unfamiliar with.

"Ella, your voice has improved so much," I commented. "I must say I am thoroughly pleased."

"Oh, I am so glad you approve," she smiled shyly. "I have been trying so hard. But I must admit I cannot take all of the credit for my voice as I have a most wonderful tutor helping me."

"Really? Who is this tutor? I would be happy to give her a referral for our other singers."

"Oh, it's a man actually. And I'm sorry to say I do not know his name. It is almost as if he sought he out to teach me...and he is most..."

Abruptly and most emphatically, Ella's singing partner gestured silently for her to join him in the outside hallway.

"What? Beau is actually going to speak to me now. I don't believe it!" the girl teased as she allowed him to escort her out of the dressing room.

I was grateful for the quiet as I set the decorative golden combs in my hair. There, I thought as I perused my reflection in the mirror, that should please my employer.

But my smile in the mirror was brittle and forced.

Suddenly, I felt horribly sad.

Perhaps it was the repeated melodies of Beauty and the Beast that I had heard for the past month. Perhaps it was the vision of Ella as Beauty. But again the memories that I had tried to tamper down were tormenting me.

And I thought of how I had been like Ella once, enthusiastic and ambitious as I worked with Erik upon our opera.

Nothing had turned out the way that I had hoped since those days. Nothing.

I bowed my head as a tear splattered down onto my wrist. And then another.

I must get a hold on myself. Tonight was the worst time possible to become prone to melancholy.

Wiping my eyes with a handkerchief, I swallowed back my sobs and looked up to see the Beast staring at me in the mirror.

"It is nothing, Beau," I blinked back my tears. "I shall be fine. It is just all of the anxiety of the night, I suppose."

He nodded silently.

Truly, he was a formidable looking Beast. The costume was so elaborate that I could barely see any sign of the singer at all behind his mask and furry pelt.

"One moment," I stood up and turned to face him. "Before you go, your costume is a little askew right here."

I adjusted his red velvet waistcoat for him and straightened his cravat.

His gloved fingers reached up to gently caress my hands.

My body jolted as if hit by a lightening bolt.

There was something about those elegant hands. Something about the light pressure of his touch.

No, it was not possible…

Even so, I pulled away from him, trying to hide my consternation.

"Good luck tonight, Beau. You shall do a fine job, I'm sure."

If only he would say something. If only he would give me some sign that my imagination was running wild. But he simply bowed.

Again, I was unnerved.

Suddenly, I heard Brett Watling's voice booming from the outer hallway.

"Jesus, Ella! How could you? How could you have done such a thing! Now no one is safe!"