Chapter 6

Several minutes before the clock in her room struck twelve, Elle left her room and gracefully made her way down the hall. When she entered the dining room, she found that the table was already two thirds of the way full. Her father was seated, along with two men that she did not recognize, and Hector Tremaine.

"Ahh, here she is," her father said to them, apparently much improved from how he had sounded earlier. "This is my lovely daughter Elle. Elle, these are the directors, Mister Tremaine and Mister Bolster. I believe you already know Hector."

"Indeed, I do," she replied, returning a polite smile to Hector who looked pleased to see her. Then she turned her green eyes to the directors. Tremaine was the one with gray hair, thin black spectacles, and a short mustache. His companion, Bolster, was a plump fellow with a jolly grin on his chubby face and an almost completely bald head. "It is a pleasure to meet you both, Monsieurs."

They nodded, and entreated for her to join them at the table. She ended up sitting next to Mister Bolster, with Hector directly across from her. She felt more comfortable with him there, because then she would have someone to talk to if they begin to discuss business. That was her first thought, until she realized that Hector would be looking interestedly in her direction most of the time.

"When will your charming wife be joining us?" Mister Tremaine asked her father.

"She sends her deepest apologies," he responded. Her mother was not coming to eat, just like she did that morning at breakfast. "But we must eat without her. She has been bed-ridden all day, and is not able to enjoy the pleasure of your company."

"What a shame!" Mister Bolster exclaimed, apparently a bit disappointed, although he seemed like a naturally excitable man. "Please do send her our regrets at not being able to be graced by her presence again."

"I will, gentlemen, and I am sure that she will lament her illness even more."

"Yes, well the meal smells divine," Mister Tremaine stated, changing the topic. Everyone seemed tired of throwing superficial compliments back and forth, and was now ready to dig in. "Shall we have a toast first?"

"That is a wonderful idea," Bolster responded. He raised his glass of wine, and waited for everyone else at the table to do the same. They did, and so then he continued. "To the success of the new L'Opera Magnifique!"

Everyone assented and repeated his toast before taking a sip of the red wine that filled up one-third of their glasses. They then set them back down unceremoniously and began to feast on the lunch that had been prepared by the restaurant across the street. The meal turned out to be exactly as good as it smelled, and the directors were not hesitant at shelling out more compliments.

As the eating died down, just as Elle had suspected would happen, the conversation turned into a discussion of business.

"We still have to find our star," Tremaine began, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses at the same time. He set them back on his face, and looked up at Monsieur D'aubigne. "We want to start work on the new production as soon as possible."

"But there is some good news," Bolster animatedly proclaimed with a pleased smile. He seemed proud of himself. "We were able to convince Estelle La Rous to come and audition, although she is my first choice. Her name suites her well, for I believe Estelle means star in French, and a star is what she surely is becoming. She is very well-known in Nice. She is not currently under contract, so we have a chance."

"I have heard of her," Elle's father finally commented, appearing as if he were in deep thought. He rubbed his stubby chin with the index finger and thumb of his right hand. "Born into a wealthy family, with the trademark of long brilliant red curls."

"She will be absolutely perfect for the lead role of Carmen," Bolster replied, not at all surprised that the owner had heard of the singer.

Elle's interest in their exchange was nonexistent and, when she caught the beautiful baby blue eyes of Hector, he began talking to her. The three men did not notice the side conversation. "Are you as excited as your father is about the opening?"

"Oh yes," Elle answered softly. "There is nothing that I love as much as music. For his sake I hope that everything goes well."

"I would not worry about that, he seems like a very prudent man."

"He certainly is. Are you going to become a director, like your father? I noticed that you join them often when they come to work here."

"I will take up the business one day," he answered. "But now I am simply observing."

"You must love the opera," she replied. Anyone who dedicates most of their life to work in the opera must love it, or at least find some facet of it appealing.

"Who doesn't?" he asked rhetorically with a smirk, which revealed pearly white teeth.

The conversation ended there, for when she turned her head slightly she saw the three men stand up and push their chairs back under the table. Hector and Elle mimicked them, and turned their attention to the men.

"Come Hector," Mister Tremaine summoned his son to join them. "We must be heading over to the theatre now."

Hector turned to look at Elle before he complied. "I am sure that we will meet again soon."

Elle nodded, and watched the young man follow after the others. After they left the room she knew that she was free to do as she wished. With nothing else to do, she returned to her bedroom. Elle did not feel like wandering around the opera house, she knew that it would not be empty now that it was slowly coming to life, and she did not wish to be around a large group of people. So she resigned to the solitude and tranquility of being alone.

She spent the rest of the day by herself, which she was used to. There were not many people to entertain Elle back in the countryside, so she had learned to enjoy the pleasure of her own company. She knew that there were many ways for one to occupy their mind. She found herself writing in a diary that she had started two years ago. It was a black leather-bound book about half way full, with not so much entries as little notes that she jotted down when a thought occurred to her that was worthy of being remembered.

Dipping her quill in a small bottle of black ink, Elle began writing about her new surroundings. She described the opera house, commented on her parents' odd behavior, and mused over the strange new teacher she had. In her elegant cursive handwriting, Elle went over her first couple days at the opera house and the new acquaintances she had acquired. When all that there was to say was written, she set down her quill and closed the book, carefully placing it in her desk drawer under a pile of novels.

Picking up the book that she still had not finished reading, Elle searched the page for the spot that she left off at. She was almost done the eleventh book of the Notre-Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo. The story continued on from when Esmeralda is hanged and Quasimodo watches it happen from within the cathedral.

Time went faster for Elle alone then when she was surrounded by people, and soon it was time to eat again. She joined her father for dinner, and finally saw her mother. Madame D'aubigne appeared pale and sickly, and from time to time would cough into a white handkerchief that she kept on her lap. She barely touched her food and only had two sips of her wine. Elle did not find her mother's behavior odd because her father had said that she was not feeling well, but she had not known to what extent.

The tailor was late, he did not arrive until the family was finished eating their meal. He was received in small parlor room attached to Madame D'aubigne's bedroom. The man was unusually short for a man and he wore a black suit with a small felt cap resting on top of his head. He brought with him a bag which contained samples of fabrics of all different colors, textures, and patterns along with measuring tape and a book to take notes in.

Elle's mother called most of the shots, but occasionally asked Elle's opinion of which color would be more becoming for the event and whether the pattern was too busy. The dress that was to be made for Elle consisted of emerald taffeta overlaid with black lace and tulle, with black lace brocade on the front. The color was chosen because it would match her eyes, and the style of the dress would flatter her frame. Her mother chose a cream colored silk fabric for her own dress, and then went into detail with the tailor about how she wanted it to look.

After she was measured, Elle returned to her room and waited. Part of her was dreading that night's lesson, but another part was anxious for the clock to strike eleven. She had gone over the music by herself several times already, but still felt uncomfortable. There was nothing that she could do except wait for the time to come for her to head out.

When the time did come she carried a lit candle in a golden candleholder with her left hand and the sheet music with her right. Elle tried to be as quiet as possible and succeeded except for a few creaks when she was descending the wooden staircase. She was worried about being discovered wandering around at night, for people were now living in the dormitories, but since she was the owner's daughter she would only have to answer to her father.

She did not run into anyone on the way to the theatre, and it seemed as if the building was dead. Darkness was surrounding her, except the small flame of her candle, and there was an unsettling silence. Elle found the stage well-lit, as it was last time, and she resumed her spot in the center of the stage. She set down the candleholder and remained holding the sheet music.

At first, for about a split second, she wondered if her teacher was going to show even though there was evidence of someone having been there, but then the voice from before boomed out from the direction of the auditorium seating. It did not surprise her that she could not see anyone there. "Start from the beginning."

Elle followed the instructions given to her, and began to sing. The sheet music was not really necessary, for she had already memorized most of the song, but she kept in with her nonetheless. She was not as tense as she was during her first lesson, but there was still some restraint in her voice. The Opera Ghost was a strict instructor, and had her repeat each verse until she sang it properly. This time he did not reveal himself, but stayed at a distance. She was beginning to think that he really was a ghost.

The lesson was a little less than an hour in length, and in a way it seemed to calm her down; the music calmed her down. Elle returned to her room as silently as she had left, and went straight to bed after changing into a white nightgown and brushing her hair. She had had a long day, and the sleep was much deserved. Thoughts of everything, anything, except for music were pushed from her head, and Elle fell asleep humming a tune to herself. She did not think anything of the music coming softly from the walls…

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Please review!

Galasriniel- Thanks for the tip, I didn't notice that but from now on I'll be more careful.

PopcornShirimp- Who wouldn't agree? lol