Helen set to work the very next day paying men to refurnish the entrance.
She then decided that the Fourier would be her doing. She loved the tall golden statues that watched you as you entered. She began to need help with building and reconstructing the Fourier and asked some men to help her get to the top statues and ceiling.
"That's wonderful! A little to the left…" Helen instructed, as four men turned one of the statues.
By that night, the entrance and the Fourier were almost done. The next day it would begin the halls, and finish the Fourier.
Helen locked up her half-finished piece of artwork and left to her small home in an Inn down the road. She hated staying in that big house that her parents left for her. So, she made it into an Inn and lived in another one closer to the Opera House.
She made it to the door when a scream of a young man startled her. She walked hurriedly around the corner to see a young man being beaten by an older man.
"Stop it! Stop! Stop! Stop it!" She yelled running out to the scene.
"What de ya want?" the man asked rudely.
"Stop beating him!" Helen commanded, stomping her foot and standing in front of the beaten young man on the ground behind her.
"MOVE outta the way!" he barked.
" You'd be wise enough to leave before I send for the police!" she glared at him, not moving.
The man looked at her wide-eyed in shock and ran. Helen began to walk away but remembered the young man she had saved. She turned to see him lying helplessly in the light snow-covered street.
"Are you alright?" she asked gently, kneeling beside him.
"How are you kind to me?" he asked in a shaky voice.
"I am kind to those that deserve it…. Let me help you up. My Inn is right around the corner and I'll be sure to get you some warm food…" she helped him to his feet. He staggered a moment and then graciously accepted her arm of support, "Why was that man so mean to you…?" she asked as they slowly began to walk down the street.
"Some questions are not to be answered…. Please don't ask of me to reply…" his English was somewhat older.
"May I ask of you another question?" Helen asked. He nodded, "Why do you insist on being so secretive?" she wiped some of the blood off this forehead with a handkerchief.
"Angels' are, so why not myself?"
She smiled, led him inside, sat him down at a table by the fireplace, and went over to the manager for two bowls of soup. When she returned to the table to give him his food, he was gone. A note remained, saying:
' Dear stranger,
You have been so compassionate to me. I hate to leave without saying the appropriate farewell, but we shall see each other soon.'
That was it.
No name, no address.
Helen looked puzzled at it for a few minutes, but then sat down and began to eat. She had a big day ahead of her. The Halls of the Opera House were going to take at least three days if ten men did not show up. She needed as many hands as she could get.
"E'cuse me, Miss. Could I talk to you fer a minute?" It was a young man about her age.
"Yes. What may I be of service to you?"
Five others showed up behind him, varying in age.
"We 'eard about what you were doing to the old Opera 'ouse and we wanted ta help." he stated.
"Well!" Helen smiled, "Be at the Opera House at seven and ready for a long day of work…"
"Right! Seven…'ear that lads? Seven in the morn! Thank ya, miss!" they left.
Helen finally retired to her room, changed, and got into her bed. She fell asleep and had a mysterious dream…
A man in all black stood at the top of the stairs, at the finished Opera House, and had half of his face hidden under a white mask. He was singing to her,
"Sing once again with me
Our strange duet
My power over
you
Grows stronger yet
And though you turn from me
To glance
behind
The phantom of the opera is there
Inside your mind…"
She followed in pure hypnotism. His gloved hand reached out to her. She grabbed onto it...
He led her down the finished halls to a room where her mother's name was written on the door in fancy calligraphy.
"I am your Angel…
Come to Me: Angel of Music…"
His voice lifted her soul and she knew she was under control of the Phantom that her mother had warned her about. She didn't care. She followed him into the room and through a mirror. She followed him down a passage way and he lead her on a horse of black.
"You're my Angel…"
"I follow you, my Angel of Music…" Helen whispered.
"We shall see each other again…soon…"
She woke. The sun was shinning on her face. The grandfather clock in her room struck six.
She slowly got out of bed and changed. She then went downstairs for breakfast the manager's wife had ready for her every morn.
"Good mornin', Love! Did you sleep well?" Lady Harrenson asked.
"Yes. Thank you. How about you, Lady Harrenson?" Helen asked with a smile.
"Very good! Now! Eat up! You've got a long day ahead of you!" Lady Harrenson poured her a glass of milk and left.
Helen sat silently eating, writing down things that had to be done to the halls…
"Good morning, gentlemen!" She stood in front of the Opera House doors nearly an hour later. She was wearing a raggy blue jumper, "Today we start the reconstruction of the halls! I'll need thirty men upstairs handling the balcony hallways. And the rest of you will help down in the main-seating hallways just up the first flight of stairs…"
The men split up and went to their chosen places.
Meanwhile, Helen walked onto the stage and looked at the Chandelier that lay in the middle of the room, halfway reconstructed.
She closed her eyes.
She was trying to remember how her mother told her how it presented itself.
'…Glittering crystals hung loosely from bar to bar, Helen…' she pictured her mother saying to her.
She opened her eyes to see three men walking down the isle.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Helen went down the stage-side stairs to meet them.
"Yes. We are from Crystals Incorporated. We are very fond of this place, since our fathers gave the first crystals, and we decided that we would like to reconstruct this masterpiece…" he set his hand on the chandelier.
Helen was ecstatic!
"For free?" she jumped in surprise.
"Yes." he nodded.
"Oh! Thank you so much! You have NO idea how much this means to me! I'll make you a deal! You bring this chandelier to life and I'll get you three a box seat for the first year of reopening! The eight-seat one there, in the middle!" she pointed behind them.
"You've got yourself a deal there, Miss…?" he held out a hand
"Just call me Helen…" Helen shook his hand.
"Helen." he nodded, "Good day!" he turned to the two men behind him and ordered something about moving the skeleton of the chandelier to a horse drawn carriage outside.
Ten other men came in and began to carry it off, having to take off some parts to fit it though the doors.
Helen walked down the halls looking at what treasures were being dusted off and found.
The gold trimming and fancy carvings appeared to come to life as the dust of years and ashes were swept away.
"Miss?" a voice asked. Helen turned to see a shy, short man holding onto his bowler hat, twitching.
"Yes?" Helen asked.
"We found this…" the short man moved aside and she saw a painting of her mother staring back. Helen looked at it and ordered,
"I want this hung in the Fourier, please…"
"Yes, mam." They carefully carried it down the stairs.
Helen watched the painting, on the backs of men, she had chosen to help, go slowly down the stairs.
"Should we place it above the door?" the man asked from the Fourier.
"Yes! That would be good…" Helen had heard the stories of the chandelier falling and burning the Opera House…but why then did her mother's painting survive the fire?
A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! Here's the next chapter and I hope you'll enjoy my next update! I am working on the next chapter. I have it written down I just need to type it! Please read and review!