The day was long and exhausting, and Giry wanted nothing more than a good meal and the comfort of her bed. She had worked with the corps de ballet all morning and into the afternoon. She had pounded her cane on the floor of the studio so often, she was sure she left the wooden floor pitted in places. After releasing the young ladies, there was additional rehearsal for any dancers with principle dancing roles in the opera. During the short breaks for meals and rest, she overheard the dancers complaining that Giry was being too hard on them. One girl was upset that in one day the boxes of her toe shoes were so worn she would have to purchase another pair. Meg had then interjected that she could not recall the last time a pair of her shoes had lasted longer than a week.
It never failed to amuse her that the dancers never seemed to be aware that rehearsals took nearly as much out of her as them. She might no longer perform the steps, but the level of concentration required for her critique the performances of all the dancers was extreme. She was often left with blinding migraines that left her nauseous and yearning for darkness. The only person she had ever told about them was Erik. His advice had been simple: cold compresses and a good night's rest.
As her thoughts turned to that damaged soul, she remembered the way his eyes had stared after Gia Burnside. Idly, she wondered wherein lay his attraction to her. She was no great beauty like Christine. She did not have Christine's angelic voice. The only thing remarkable about her seemed to be the gossip that swirled about her. She was far too old and experienced to be taken in by Erik posing as an angel of music. Or was she? From the little she knew of the woman, she gleaned that Mlle. Burnside's existence must be a lonely one. That left her terribly vulnerable. Erik was capable of using his considerable gifts of persuasion, both physical and mental to get what he desired from people. But what exactly did he want from her?
These thoughts occupied her while she ate a quiet meal of bread, cheese, and a tart apple in her and Meg's room. After putting the food away and brushing the crumbs from her skirts she decided to call on Gia. The hour was late, and she was shocked to discover when she politely knocked on the door there was no answer. After two more attempts, she slowly turned the door knob and discovered what Erik said was true; she did not lock her door. Glancing around, checking for others and finding no one about, she entered the room.
It was not as sparsely furnished as she would have imagined it. The room was filled with warm light emanating from several gas lamps. There were a few opera posters on the walls, and some pictures which were undoubtedly of Maria Bianci. There were no pictures of Gia, who did not seem to resemble her mother in the least bit. One wall was dominated by a large bookcase filled with books. One shelf appeared to be devoted to strictly academic subjects such as history, musical theory, and science. Another contained assorted great literature in French, Italian, or English. On the bottom shelf, tucked out of sight was a double row of romantic fiction. Giry smiled, several of the books looked well worn. It struck her that a collection such as this must have cost the poor girl most of her small salary over the years.
On the bed lay Gia's copy of the libretto of The Magic Flute. So, she had returned to her room, but had left for some reason. If she had been anyone else, Giry would have assumed it was to meet a lover. Glancing about for some clue as to where she could possibly be, she noticed a small package on the desk next to the bookcase. Treading as lightly as possible, she peered inside the brown wrapping. It took a moment to register, but once it did, she flew from the room. Pausing only a moment to grab a lantern, she made her way back down to the ballet practice rooms.
As she approached the room the furthest down the hall she could hear the unmistakable sound of a mixture of footfalls and counting. Occasionally, a curse in English slipped out. She approached the room stealthily, and she could also hear Gia humming and muttering assorted ballet terms under her breath. The practice room had no door, and Giry realized the girl would quickly know she was not alone. She briefly contemplated leaving her, but it was too important for her not to be told about Erik.
Gia knew she should have her eyes trained on the mirrors at the front of the room so she could watch herself. It was impossible to do when she felt like this. Her mind was filled with music and her feet had itched to dance all day. It was only once she was sure everyone was in the dormitories that she dared venture downstairs. If anyone saw her now, he would be sure to laugh. The oh-so proper Mlle. Burnside leaping around the room, arms flung out, her hair coming undone from its coiffure would make a most astonishing sight. She only allowed herself this wild, unbridled freedom three times a week. Much more and she might risk discovery. As it was, she might have to scale back. Madame Giry appeared to be the type of woman who would want to know about everything that happens in the opera house.
"Pardon me, mademoiselle. I did not mean to interrupt you, but I much desire to speak with you."
The words snapped Gia from her silent reverie. She had been about to begin a series of turns, but now her feet were rooted to the ground. In the shadows at the front of the room, she could make out the frame of a woman holding a cane. It could only be one person. She felt her cheeks immediately redden, and her hands flew to her face.
"Oh no," she pleaded, "Promise me you won't tell anyone I was here."
"I would not do that to you, my dear. I understand all too well the cruelties that gossip can create. It is an unfortunate fact of this life that there are those who would try to use something like this to hurt you."
Instinctively, Gia felt that this was a person she could trust. She had heard the rumors that the ballet mistress had been involved with the mysterious Phantom. There were even those who speculated she had been his lover. If he could trust her, she could trust her. How long had it been since she had confided in anyone?
"I will get my things, and if you like, we can speak in my room," she added after a moment had passed. She bent down to unlace her shoes, but Giry stopped her.
"It is better if we speak here. Then we can be sure no one will disturb us. In the dormitories the walls often have ears." She dare not discuss Erik where there was a high probability someone besides him would over hear their conversation. As it was, if he was listening, he would be furious with her for revealing anything of his past to Gia.
Gia finished unlacing her shoes, and then removed the lamb's wool from her toes. It was dotted with fresh blood, and she could see her big toe had split open again from the overexertion. She took a deep breath and then she let loose all the thoughts running through her mind, "Mme Giry, how did you find me down here? I have been coming here for years and no one has ever guessed I spend time here. Whatever could possibly be so urgent you would seek me out this late in the evening? I know you had a long day today with the dancers. You must be exhausted. I am just a silly chorus girl who foolishly clings to her childhood dream. I am of no consequence to you. If you object to my coming here, I shall have to find somewhere else to dance."
"I must beg your forgiveness, my child. I was so anxious to speak with you that when you did not answer the door, I went inside to see if I could find some clue as to where you were. It was only until I saw the bundle of lamb's wool on your desk that I realized you had to be down here. I would not have invaded your privacy had I not felt it necessary." At this point, Giry ceased speaking and made her way over to Gia. In the low light of the room, it had been nearly impossible to see what she had been doing. Upon a closer inspection she could see the girl had obviously been working hard. Her face was flushed, her chest was damp, and slow rivulets of sweat were dripping from her forehead. Her leotard was worn and her shoes were practically falling apart. It was a minor miracle she could even stay on her toes with them.
Under the critical gaze of the ballet mistress, Gia visibly flinched. She knew she must look ridiculous standing there, her feet blistering on the floor, her slippers dangling from her right hand. She wanted out of that room. Already the air felt heavier and the heat was unbearable. "Please tell me what you came to tell me. If I'm going to clean myself up I need to get back to my room so I can request some hot water," her exasperation evident in her tone of voice. Giry knew this was not the time to beat around the bush, "What do you know of the Phantom of the Opera?"
Gia was taken slightly aback. This was what she wanted to talk about! In her exhaustion, she could not help the chuckle that escaped her lips. "No more than anyone else, I imagine. He was a madman living in the cellars of the Opera Populaire, and he extorted a fortune out of the managers over the years. Two years ago he used his influence to promote Christine Daae, and elevate her out of the corps de ballet. The rumor was that she was his lover. He even wrote an opera for her, which he insisted be performed. On the night of the performance he took the tenor's place, and after he pledged his love to Miss Daae, she unmasked him before the crowd. He became unhinged, cut down the chandelier, and escaped with Miss Daae, but the opera house was destroyed. Somehow she escaped him, and although no body was ever recovered it is believed he perished. Miss Daae married the Vicomte de Chagny and lived happily ever after," she concluded. "It's a nice fairy story."
"Mademoiselle, I regret to inform you, essentially that is all true. The Phantom is real. And he has returned."
"Is that so Mme. Giry?" she added cynically. "I seem to also recall hearing that you were mixed up in the incident as well. There were rumors you were his paramour in order to protect your daughter from him. Or perhaps that was the reason why you allowed him to seduce one of your charges?" Gia's expression hardened, her icy blue eyes glazing over her tone shifting away from congenial to cold and aloof.
"I did not allow him to do anything. He takes what he wants, and that is why I came here."
"You do not deny that you were involved with him, then?" the chorus girl continued.
"In the way you implied? No. But I will not deny knowing him. As well as anyone could know him." At this, Giry looked carefully at the young women in front of her. She was clearly suspicious of her, and with good reason. Perhaps that would ultimately spare her and keep her safe from Erik. "All you need to know is that he has taken up residence in this opera house. Where he has been or what he has been doing for the past two years, I know not. He seems to have a particular interest in you. He told me he has been in your room. You should have a greater care for your safety. I only tell you this as a friendly warning, one woman to another."
Gia suddenly found she was unable to speak. He had been in her room? Had that monster seen her undress? How could she not have been aware of such an intrusion? The silence was broken by the sound of her toe slippers falling from her fingers and landing on the hardwood floor with a clatter. Gia bent down to pick them up and found the ballet mistress had quietly exited the practice room, leaving her alone with only her thoughts to keep her company.