Once Gia fell into a peaceful sleep, Erik extricated himself from her embrace and crept carefully out of bed so as not to disturb her. He picked up her discarded ballet uniform and stockings and as he passed his mirror on his way to wash them, he looked at himself critically. Was it possible his face was not as horrible as he had imagined it after all these years? She had accepted it so easily and without hesitation. Her reaction when she had felt that he had removed it seemed to demonstrate she preferred him without it. He had spent so many hours of his life constructing a perfect façade so when he did show himself he did not frighten others. It was almost disconcerting that the mask was nothing but a foolish prop to her.
What would happen if he were to venture out without it? She had once said she was willing to help him if he wished to do that. Would she be willing to be seen on his arm? Would she be proud to announce to the world that he was her lover? The idea was very appealing, but ultimately not possible. Gia's reputation was too important to her to reveal that she had taken up with a man. Any man for that matter. If he had been whole, she would have insisted on secrecy.
Without a thought to his nudity, Erik took the uniform over to the stove where he always kept some hot water. He began by first washing her stockings and then moved on to the rest of the uniform. They would probably not be completely dry before morning, but they would be clean. He was certain Gia would not want to attend rehearsal in a sweat stained dress. She would be too concerned about what others might say about it.
As he scrubbed the cotton he thought of what she had done to him once he relinquished the power in his bed to her. She had affixed each wrist to the bed separately before she blindfolded him. She did not forbid him to speak however. Then she set about using that talented mouth of hers to drive him nearly insane. The idea of her using it on another man was beginning to bother him. He had promised himself that when the time came he would be able to give her up without any jealousy on his part. But the very idea of her taking another man into her mouth and riding him hard until he came filled him with a rage he had not felt in some time. Erik supposed it was only natural, after all, what man would enjoy the idea of his woman in bed with another man? As long as he did not act on those feelings there would be no problems.
He had come to care for her far more than he had expected. She was both intellectually and physically stimulating. She knew nearly as much about opera and music as he did. They were both stubborn perfectionists that could harm themselves if left to their own devices. And yet they could bring out the worst in each other when they would argue. He instinctively knew how he could hurt her the most when they fought, and she was not afraid to respond to that in kind. However, she had never once thrown his deformity back at him. She behaved as though it did not exist. He had long given up on finding a woman who could do that.
It distressed him to no end that he was starting to sound like a man in love. Was this what it meant to be in love? It was certainly not the all consuming emotion that he had felt for Christine. But perhaps that was a good thing. He felt a closeness to Gia that he had not had with Christine, but then again, he had never slept with her. With Christine he had be sure he had found the love of a lifetime, the kind of love that would never die, but with Gia he simply found peace.
The hours he spent without her were often long and difficult. He passed them by composing and reading, occasionally thinking about his plans for the future of the Metropolitan, but suddenly he would picture her and he would have to set aside whatever he was doing for the moment. It was hard to believe someone who had been so sheltered could be so uninhibited in bed. That could not entirely be his doing. She was a passionate woman, she just needed someone to bring that out of her. He was just damn lucky it had been him.
He had been so distracted thinking about Gia he nearly wore a hole through the bodice of the ballet outfit. Satisfied it was now clean, he wrung it out thoroughly and hung it up to dry not far from the stove. The heat there would expedite things. Before Erik could go back to bed, he went into his wardrobe and took out the extra set of pointe shoes that he had purchased for her. It was providential that he had bought two pairs since Gia could not possibly use the other pair again. Not only were blood stains visible on the outside, the toes were almost broken in and the supports that help a dancer stay upright were extremely worn. He looked at where Gia had sewn in the ribbons and did his best to replicate that on the new pair. He would have liked to do more, but he knew dancers had their own methods of preparing their shoes, so he would have to leave it to her in the morning.
He slunk back to the bed, reminding himself to wake her so she would have plenty of time to finish work on the shoes, dress, and get to rehearsal. She would not want to be late, especially since it would cause idle chatter and not put her in good stead with the demanding ballet mistress. She let out a small content sound as he rejoined her in the bed. He pulled her against him and she positively purred. If he was not careful she would wake up, and from the sounds she was making they would not fall asleep in the near future.
He whispered soothingly to her, "Shhhh, Gia. You need your rest." He stroked her hair in silence until he was certain she was asleep. Only then did he allow himself to slip into unconsciousness.
Gia awoke in a blind panic as she felt a light shake on her shoulder. She bolted out of the bed, and it took her a moment to realize that she was naked. Self-conscious she quickly pulled up the sheet to cover herself and looked up to see Erik holding out a mug of steaming liquid with a bemused expression on his face.
"How can you just stand there? I'm going to be late for rehearsal and I don't even have anything to wear!" she shrieked. "You have to help me. This is all your fault!"
"Why do I always have to remind you that some of the blame has to lie with you. Here, have some tea," he said as he pressed the mug into her hand. "I woke you with plenty of time to spare, and I laundered your things before I fell asleep."
"You did that for me?" she looked at him with wide eyes, unsure whether to believe he would be that considerate.
"Did you think I would let you go to rehearsal unprepared?" he asked her.
"I, I just did not think that it would occur to you," she stammered as she took a long drink from the cup. "You certainly have a talent for putting me constantly in your debt."
"It is nothing." He left her to her tea, but shortly returned with all that she would need for the upcoming rehearsal, including the toe shoes, a box of lamb's wool, and his sewing kit. Gia actually let out a girlish squeal at the sight of the new shoes. Quite forgetting herself, she jumped out of the bed and threw her arms around him. He dropped all the items as he found his arms full of warm woman. She was pressed intimately against him, her chest against his, her hips against his. His first thought was to tumble her back into that bed, and get his clothes off as quickly as possible. His cock certainly didn't care that it would make her late.
Erik wrapped his large hands around her waist and held her off. "Gia, you need to get dressed. Now. Or I can't be held responsible for my actions." He hurriedly exited the room and went to the organ to play while she changed. He banged heavily at the keyboard, thankful to have something to take his sexual frustration out on. She emerged scant minutes later, her hair put to rights, and fully dressed, clutching his sewing kit. Without a word she took a seat next to him on the bench while he played and she went to work on the tips of the shoes. As he played, he took a deep inhale, and the smell of sex permeated his nostrils. She smelled like someone who had been making love all night, there was musk and the trace of sweat, and it brought him back instantly to the night before. He found himself unable to concentrate on the piece of music he was playing, and he got up and walked away from her.
"Erik is there something wrong? I was enjoying your playing a great deal. One of your own works, I imagine?" she asked, oblivious to his discomfort.
"No, I just wanted to give you some more space," he replied, not wanting to admit what he wanted was to take her while she sat on that bench and he used the organ to brace himself as he fucked her. He watched as she finished with the shoes, and banged them hard against the stone floor to soften them up a bit. She then slipped them on without tying them and proceeded to walk about a bit, being careful to watch where she stepped because the floor was uneven. She winced a bit because her feet were still tender, but she was more comfortable in this pair than the last. It certainly improved matters that she had better protected her feet by using a more generous packing of lamb's wool.
Satisfied, she took the shoes off, and neatly tucked the ribbons in so they would not get any dirtier by trailing along the floor. Seeing that she was ready to leave, Erik went to his room to fetch her flat slippers that he had placed inside one of his topcoats. Having retrieved them, he helped her into the boat. Gia was nervous, and he could hear her fiddling with the costume the closer they got to their final destination. He offered to escort her as far as the hallways near the practice rooms but she declined, saying it wasn't wise or necessary. He had anticipated her response, but he wanted to make the offer nonetheless.
He was at something of a loss at what do once he watched her form disappear into the gloom of the dark passageway. Christine had to have received his letter by now. It would be a matter of time before he heard a response. What he wanted at the moment was to attend the rehearsal and see how Gia handled herself. If he knew Madame Giry, by next week rehearsals would begin on the stage of the Metropolitan. Then he would be able to observe all he liked. That thought cheered him slightly as he made his way back to the place that had become his home. He was already looking forward to seeing Gia later that evening, and he hummed as he guided the boat back to his lair.
Thankfully the hallways behind the ballet practice rooms were devoid of people as she carefully made her way to rehearsal. As she was the first to arrive, Gia took the time to stretch a bit. Today there would be no excuses for a poor performance. She was only alone for a few minutes before the other performers began to arrive along with Madame Giry.
Once everyone was assembled she announced, "This shall be the schedule for the rest of this week, and I expect you all to keep it. I shall rehearse all of the ladies from 9:30 AM until noon. We shall then adjourn for lunch for one hour. From 1 until 3 I shall work with the gentleman. After a short break, I will work with all of the principal dancers."
Everyone nodded, and she continued, "Beginning next Monday, we shall only warm up in the practice rooms, and then the rest of rehearsals shall be spent on stage so I can confer with Monsieur Reyer as much as possible about the music. One month is a short time to prepare a production worthy of the scale of this opera house, but I believe if you all work your hardest, we shall be successful."
The few gentlemen present were then dismissed and told to report to the costume department to have their measurements taken. The ladies would do the same after the lunch break. Madame Giry then sharply rapped her staff on the floor and that sent the message it was time to begin practice. Gia could not help observing that in all the intervening years some things, like bar warm up, never change. There was something comforting in that fact. It would begin with pliés and tendus then end with devélopées and arabesques. In between there would be the usual exercises meant to test and improve balance, agility and flexibility.
This morning she felt much less nervous, and she focused as much as possible on Madame Giry's voice and the sound of the cane, pounding out the count. Occasionally she would wield it as a tool to point out mistakes or give praise. Gia could not help being pleased when the ballet mistress lightly rapped Adrienne Leveau on the shoulder for allowing her arms to droop. Unwisely she had given Madame Giry a hostile glare instead of accepting her gentle criticism.
"Mademoiselle Leveau, I do not know how Monsieur Reyer conducts his rehearsals but when you are in this room, you will show me the respect that is due me. If you cannot handle working with me then you can go somewhere else. I am sure the seamstresses would be happy to have your help."
That remark cowed the young singer, and the room was quiet a moment before everyone resumed the exercise. Once the warm up was complete, it was time to don pointe shoes and begin the most difficult part of practice. Today Gia took her time, being certain to protect her feet and lace the ribbons so she would not have to worry about them coming loose. Traditionally, center work began with an arm exercise, but Madame Giry began instead with some simple traveling steps. She gradually began to increase the difficulty, and Gia realized what she was doing. She was looking to see what everyone's strengths were for choreographic reasons.
They next moved into pirouettes, which would be the first real test for Gia. Madame Giry called for the same exercise as the day previous. Gia saw her look in her direction briefly as she began the count. "Just pretend no one is there," Gia muttered to herself over and over, a mantra to settle the knots in her stomach.
Prepare. Four to the right.
Prepare. Four to the left.
As Gia completed the final double turn with nary a wobble, she heard Madame Giry say, "Well done Mlle. Burnside, well done." The praise made Gia crack a small smile, but her small triumph was over the moment Madame Giry began the instructions for the next exercise.
The rehearsal continued in that fashion with Gia performing ably, if not distinguishing herself. It would be enough to put off some of the gossip, she thought. The last hour, Madame Giry began lining them up to work on some of the actual dancing from the ballet. As the Queen, Gia would enter first, followed by all of the other members of the corps. Meg would enter last as Giselle who Gia would have to command to rise from her grave. There would then be a long dance where Gia would have some solo work.
It was strange being the center of attention, and the hour seemed to drag far longer than the others. Gia was relieved when Madame Giry dismissed them all, but she did not look forward to being measured later. She was looking forward to the principal rehearsal, if only because she would have the chance to see Meg dance. She would make a marvelous Giselle. From the little she had seen, she could combine the sweetness and passionate fragility so necessary to make the character work.
After lunch Gia reported to the seamstresses who measured her for her costume. She could hear the assistants tittering that her costume would be one of the most expensive because it would contain the most fabric. Yet another cold reminder that she was out of place. Having nothing better to do with herself she decided to go the practice rooms and wait until the men finished rehearsing. Since one room was available she used the time to practice the sections of the ballet that she had learned earlier in the day.
"I see the reports about you were greatly exaggerated," said a male voice across the room.
Gia turned to find a sweaty Jean-Paul Chretien watching her. He was rather handsome with his hair the color of sun kissed wheat and chestnut brown eyes, but he stood at least three inches shorter than her.
"I had heard from some sources that you were rather hopeless. It would seem those reports were erroneous. Those girls can be so petty. They must be jealous you're better than they are," he said as he entered the room.
"Shouldn't you be rehearsing with the others Monsieur Chretien?" she asked.
"It would seem you've lost track of time, Mlle. Burnside. We finished a few minutes ago. I am simply waiting for afternoon rehearsal to begin. And please call me Jean-Paul, after all we will be working closely together the next few weeks," he replied with emphasis on the latter part of his last statement.
"I must have. I just like to take the time to practice when I can, given I need so much work," she explained.
"Not that I can see. Is it true you fell during yesterday's rehearsals or did Adrienne dream that up along with the tales of your phantom lover?"
His choice of wording sent a jolt of fear through her body and made her heart race. She calmed herself by reminding herself that there was no way she could know anything about Erik. "She didn't lie. I did make rather an ass of myself yesterday. I was very nervous dancing in front of others."
"I would think that after years of being on stage would have banished all your butterflies," he remarked.
"You must remember, Jean-Paul, I have not danced in front of an audience in nearly ten years."
Over the last couple of years that he had been employed at the Metropolitan, he had heard all manner of rumors about Gianna Burnside. She was a most mysterious figure, always holding herself apart and seeming very aloof. Even now he could tell she was uncomfortable with him being alone in the room with her. He wondered if she had ever had a lover. The current was gossip that it was some rich old man, but he doubted it. Gia looked to be a woman of taste, and that would not appeal to her, no matter the money to be made. Might she be a virgin? Her mother had certainly kept the men away while she was alive. A new conquest would be exciting; a few well-chosen compliments and she would be putty in his hands.
"I must admit that now that I've seen you for myself, I am quite happy that you're going to be the one dancing me to death rather than one of the other girls. There's something about you Gianna, a majesty that they don't have," he flattered her as he openly leered at her.
The ogling made Gia even more unsettled. What a pig! Did he think he was a simple chorus girl who would just fall into his arms? However, she knew it would not be prudent to be rude to him as he would be one principal dancer she would be working the closest with. She simply gave him a cold, "Thank you," and breathed a sigh of relief when Madame Giry arrived with Meg.
A couple of hours later, Gia returned directly to her room, wanting nothing more than something to eat and her bed. As she entered the room she found a note had been shoved under her door. The note was written in the neat script of the ballet mistress. It read:
Dear Gia,
During the lunch hour, I received an express letter addressed to me from Christine. The letter is clearly meant for Erik by the contents. I leave it to you to see he receives it as he no longer pays me any calls.
Sincerely,
Antoinette Giry
The seal on the letter was already broken. She was alone in her room. What harm could it possibly do to read the letter? It would be a gross invasion of not only Erik's privacy but the viscomtess's. She listened carefully to discern if he was at her wardrobe, certain the coast was clear, she opened the note and read it.