Author's Note: Salut to all...here you shall find the much awaited Rose vs. Poligny boxing match. But before you hop into that, just remember how truly poor I am...American Express and Capital One just arrived along with my Citibank statement and I am once again forced to realize exactly how little money I have. Needless to say, I don't need a lawsuit about taking claim to Erik, Christine, the Palais Garnier (imagine that heating/electric bill!), or just about anything else that you'd recognize.
The Patron of the Opera – Chapter Six
The temperature in the auditorium seemed to drop suddenly as all heads turned to watch the confrontation between the opera manager and the visiting artist. Poligny downed his glass of brandy as Rose walked toward him, her skirts billowing out as she approached. With her eyes glowing with a strange intensity and her face set in its stone-like expression, she resembled a statute of a vengeful Greek goddess brought to life.
Cusset moved quickly and filled the brandy glass again. Taking another gulp at his brandy, Poligny launched into his argument. "How dare you go around here doing as you will without asking my permission? I am the manager here! I am in charge! You will answer to me!"
Rose stood perfectly still in front of him, her green eyes burning into his with a fierce intensity. She seemed to tower over him although she was only an inch taller than he. She scarcely seemed to be breathing, but all he was aware of were her green eyes, glowing in the darkness of the amphitheater.
Gulping at his brandy for courage he started yelling again, although unconsciously he had begun to back up to put more distance between himself and her.
"You do not have authority here and you will have respect for the opera's directors!"
She took a step toward him, closing the distance between them to be only a few feet. He stumbled as he backed into the wall.
"You ignorant mistress of a patron! You are a patron's whore! You have no right to insult me or my staff. You will obey by the rules of this opera house!"
"Are you quite finished, Monsieur Poligny?" Rose whispered in a dangerous tone. She had moved so close that he could feel her slight breath in his face as she voiced her question.
He went to gulp at his brandy, but her hand shot out and forced his wrist against the wall. She took the brandy with her free hand and downed the nearly full glass in one swallow. She then leant into Poligny's face so that her small nose was nearly pressed against his red, bulbous one.
"Now, you will listen to me, monsieur. I believe that we had an agreement contracted at the beginning of this rehearsal. I have kept up my end of the bargain. Let me state that it is in your best interests to do the same."
She looked to the now empty glass in her hand and turned it round as though to admire how the lights of the amphitheater reflected in the crystal.
"This glass is a beautiful item, is it not, monsieur?"
"Why yes..." Poligny stuttered, his wrist still held firmly against the wall by her iron grip.
"Waterford, I suppose?"
"Of course, mademoiselle..."
She leaned in very close to his face, her green eyes boring into his as she rotated the glass in her hands. "Keep this in mind, Poligny. Some things can be beautiful and fragile, such as this crystal. But you would be wise to also beware, for in such items lies the potential to make the most formidable of weapons..."
With those words, her hand closed like a vice around the crystal. She opened her palm to display the broken shards of glass, some very long and very menacing.
"Such things can be a danger, can they not? I would not wish to make an enemy of one of these...but they too can be very pretty, if you don't mind the risk." She moved her hand to catch the light and shone it in Poligny's white face. The movement resulted in her being cut by the glass and a line of blood welled up in her palm.
"It should be obvious that I do not mind the risks; I have nothing left to lose. So, the real question is, do you?"
Poligny fainted and fell into a heap of drunken flesh at her feet.
Rose's skirts rustled as she briskly walked back to her dressing room. She reached her door at the end of the hallway slammed it shut behind her when she entered the room. Locking it, she strode over to the small bureau and with shaking hands opened the locked drawer that contained her most treasured possessions. She took out her favorite photograph of her late fiancé and lovingly stroked his cheek with her bandaged hand before bursting into heart wrenching sobs.
The gala was to take place the next evening and while it would bring her a great sense of satisfaction to have succeeded in bringing the opera to Paris, it also reminded her of the duty that she owed to herself and the other man who she loved.
William had always been there for her, first as a cousin and later as a friend. Her father was a poor man with a noble title but had orphaned her when she was six; her mother had died in childbirth. William, the son of a friend to her father, had taken pity on her plight and brought her to his distant family living in New York so that she might be properly raised and not forced to share the unfortunate fate of orphans in the 1800's. He had been eighteen at the time and while he was often occupied with the issues of adulthood, he had always made time for visits to his 'cousin'.
His maiden aunt had taken Rose in and raised her as her own, sparing no expense for her education in all subjects ranging from etiquette lessons to ancient Greek and Latin. It had been William's uncle, the stir-crazy bachelor nobleman, who had arranged for her to have lessons in advanced mathematics and science as he believed that one could never have too much of an education. She had been an enthusiastic and brilliant student in almost every subject she tried her hand at and, assuming that without dowry that she would never marry, began to take steps to establish a name for herself, albeit under a male pseudonym.
William himself was inadvertently responsible for the commencement of her music lessons with Enoch Ardenson; he had commented on the need of such instruction in 'refined' society and so his aunt made inquiries and Enoch Ardenson made his advent into her life.
Ten years prior...
A fifteen year old Rose was absolutely furious with her adoptive aunt. The woman had the audacity to cancel Rose's mathematics lessons for one of the three afternoons each week for some so-called music instructions.
"The finest ladies take music lessons so you must do the same. I've hired a professor for you and he will arrive before tea this afternoon." her aunt had harped at her.
"But Aunt Elizabeth, why on earth do I need lessons? I can play the piano forte and the violin already."
"You need to be well educated in the arts as well as the sciences. Especially as a woman! Trust me, you will benefit much more from one day of music instruction than from another of calculus. You spend far too much time over those figures than that which is healthy."
"I like those figures, Aunt. Why on earth didn't you let me know before today? I was looking forward to lessons this afternoon!"
"You would've wheedled your way out of the lesson. So I caught you by surprise and as your instructor will be here within the hour, I suggest you go and get your things ready in the instrument room."
Reluctantly, Rose obeyed. When the bell rang and she heard the heavy footsteps in the other room, she steeled herself for the inevitable meeting. She would be his student, but she would be cold and unreceptive to him.
"Professor Ardenson, I'd like you to meet your student. Rose? Are you in here?"
Rose stood from her seat in the shadows of the music room and turned towards them, giving her a full view of her new professor.
He was not handsome at all, she remembered thinking. His nose was the most striking feature, so large that it dominated his entire face. His hair was lank and pulled back at the nape in an unattractive style and as for facial hair, he lacked the mustache that would've hidden his uneven lips. He stood before her in a poor, patched suit and while she rarely concerned herself with clothing, given her situation as an orphan living on charity, she thought that he could've at least made an effort to make himself presentable to her aunt on the first day of their lessons.
After brief introductions, her aunt had left them so that they might begin the lesson. Ardenson had asked several questions of her regarding her experience and she had answered them all with the quickest of replies. She answered truthfully, telling him that she had never had formal instructions on the piano. She never had taken lessons before, but she had been taught a few tricks by her uncle and had painstakingly taught herself the exercises for nearly ten years.
He began to instruct her on simple scales on the piano and she sat through his exercises, showing indifference to his comments and recommendations. At the end of the lesson, he stood and while straightening his jacket and collecting his belongings, he coldly remarked to her "I was told by your aunt that you would be reluctant to study because these lessons were taking you away from your hobbies. While I am sorry to deprive you of your precious time, it would make the situation much easier for the both of us if you were to devote some of your attention to the lesson at hand and behave as a young woman instead of a child."
He would've walked out the door to the music room then but Rose had slammed her hands down on the ivory keys. He turned to rebuke her for her behavior but she had rushed into an extremely quick version of Mozart's 'Rondo al Turca'. Her hands flew over the keys at an alarmingly fast rate and not a sour note was to be found in her playing. She cut off in the middle of the piece and switched to a Vivaldi harpsichord concerto which she also played quickly and accurately.
From Vivaldi to Bach and then to Beethoven, she played them perfectly as her instructor's face registered a fair amount of shock. She then launched into the scales which they had struggled over for the past hour and finished with a graceful arpeggio on the last scale that they had practiced.
She looked at him with her green eyes and her face set in its stone-like expression. He walked back to her and stood glaring over his large beak-like nose. "You had stated that you had never had instruction before on this instrument."
"I do not lie, Professor."
"You play very well for a beginner. I must commend myself for your amazing progress in only an hour's lesson." He stated sarcastically.
"Yes, I suppose it seems a remarkable feat for such an instructor of your caliber."
He bristled at that and walked toward the door. He stopped just before leaving and with his back still turned to her, asked "Dare I ask exactly what hobby I have kept you from to warrant this treatment?"
"It was not a 'hobby'. It was my lesson in differential mathematics which, I confess, is much more interesting to me than a series of old scales which I mastered years ago."
He kept his shock hidden from her and walked out of the room.
The next lessons were not much improved. They were at each other's throats for nearly two months. Her aunt, who had been more than happy to sacrifice another of Rose's mathematics lessons for one she felt was much more important for a young lady of breeding, had dismissed the calculus instructor for the usual Monday lesson for another music lesson.
When he was let into the house, Enoch had met the small mathematics instructor who had just been informed that his services were only required on Fridays. He had been frustrated by this; he was now going to have to deal with a temperamental child who hated his lessons enough once a week.
The aunt was called away suddenly on servant business and the two men stood there awkwardly staring at each other until the mathematics professor said in a low voice "She is a brilliant student, sir. Her playing is much improved since she began working with you."
"How would you know, sir? She never plays except at the lessons."
"She's in their playing right now, who else would it be?" The soft sound of a piano in the back room was barely audible. "She told me that she would enjoy your lessons if only she had not had to sacrifice her others for the sake of them. She doesn't know that I've been dismissed for Mondays as well now; please let her know that I am sorry for that and that I'm sorry that I will not be able to continue to see to her lessons."
"What? Why are you not able to teach her?"
"When I was engaged for two lessons a week, it was very difficult to make ends meet but I kept her on as she was such a brilliant student and enjoyed the lessons so. But there is no way I can afford to tutor her for only one session a week; I must seek another position elsewhere. Tell her that I am sorry and wish her the best."
The small man saw himself out of the house and left Enoch standing in the hallway in quite a state; he thought himself the last person that should tell Rose that his lessons had cost her her favorite subject and professor. He entered the music room silently where Rose was already at the piano. She was unaware of his presence and played through a piece with emotions that he had never heard before in her playing. She hummed along with the piece and was so completely involved in the music that she never noticed her music professor walking closer to her to stand over her shoulder as she played.
He had told her years later that this was the first of many times that he had been struck by her beauty. He watched her play and was overwhelmed by the beauty of her serene expression as she took pleasure from the music that welled from under her fingertips. He looked over to the table near the piano and saw a huge pile of mathematics books and sheaves of paper filled with equations and realized exactly how much she looked forward to her lessons. 'If only she could put half as much effort into our lessons...' he thought.
She had begun to sing along with the piece and he was immediately struck by her voice. While her playing was truly phenomenal especially for one of her age, her voice was coarse and untrained. He had not anticipated that she would not be as competent vocally as she was instrumentally and was shocked that she could not even match the pitches of the notes she was playing with perfect accuracy.
He suddenly came up with an idea, one that would benefit both her and him. By speaking to the aunt, he would secure her her lessons with the math professor before tea and, if permissible, would hold his lessons later in the afternoon so that she would not have to sacrifice either subject. He would abandon his instruction on the piano, she did not need it. Instead, he would train her voice and would be able to test his abilities as a professor.
He outlined this plan to her after interrupting her sonata. She had been furious by her aunt's actions at first, but her common sense had prevailed and she complied with his plan. They were successful in their endeavors and so Rose's tutoring schedule now accommodated both science and art in a happy balance.
The fact that he had aided her in saving her favorite lessons garnered some respect for Enoch in Rose's eyes and she actually worked during and after their music lessons so that her progress was staggering. The music lessons came to be an enjoyable part of the week and the two musicians worked side by side to improve Rose's vocal abilities and her abilities as a musical accompanist. In three years, the two were writing music together and regarded each other as colleagues instead of being in a strict teacher-student relationship.
Enoch took great pride in her voice because as he felt that he had shaped it with his own hands. Rose always agreed with him on this point for before his lessons, she had considered her mezzo-soprano voice to be weak and unbeautiful. He had begun his opera 'Czarina Catrina' at that point in their acquaintance and had written the title role's arias with Rose's voice in mind.
It was when she was nineteen that they made the step from colleagues to lovers. Neither of them could remember who had initiated it, but their first kiss in the music room had shocked both of them so badly that they had even talked about quitting the lessons altogether when they met again later that week. However, when Rose had announced with her unfeminine frankness "It did not bother me, did it you?" Enoch was unable to lie to her and responded in kind.
Their relationship was kept secret for a year after their first kiss as not many people would have respect for the love that the thirty-three year old professor had for his young and beautiful protégée. However, when Rose turned twenty, both her adoptive aunt and uncle took ill and died of influenza. Penniless, she moved from their beautiful home to a small room in a less-respectable area of town and took a job as a accompanist for the daughters of the rich when they gave their talent-less recitals. She published some of her scientific work through the local colleges but despite her extensive education, there was no work to be found for her in academia as she was a woman. Enoch was too poor to support himself and a wife and in order to secure a steady source of income, he reenlisted himself in the United States Army; as a young man, he had fought on the Union side in the Civil War and his expertise in military procedures was much in demand for the Western Expansion. He had left her with a kiss and a promise that, upon his return in three years, he would marry her and settle down to start their family.
From her few pieces of jewelry, she had crafted a simple gold locket for him and inside had drawn two very lifelike line portraits of both herself and him. She had given it to him at the train depot where she had last seen his dark eyes alive with love for her as he stroked the line of her chin with his thumb for what would be the last time.
William had come from England to New York when the news of his relatives' deaths reached London. At first, he could find no trace of his lovely cousin but after an extensive search, he saw her for the first time in three years while she performed on the organ for a wedding ceremony in a small church in the slums of the city. Again filled with pity for her circumstances, he took it upon himself to introduce her to society as his distant cousin, the Lady Rose O'Connor. She attended many balls and galas with him as his guest and soon became a favorite of New York society. Her musical talents secured her a place in the hearts of society's finest and for a brief while, she was happy even with Enoch away from her side.
It was during that time that William was forced to acknowledge that his feelings of friendship had matured into a passionate love for the young woman. On her twenty-first birthday, he had gone completely against his confirmed 'bacheloristic' beliefs and proposed to her. He was completely taken aback when she replied that she was already promised to her old music instructor.
William had conducted himself as a gentleman and never again made unwanted advances, but Rose knew that his feelings for her had never changed from that day so long ago. She knew that he resented Enoch's inability to support her and had never approved of the match due to the significant difference in ages; Enoch was fourteen years older than she. She had always found that argument of William's quite funny for he considered himself to be a suitable match with twelve years difference between himself and her.
Even with the brief awkwardness after his proposal, she was still happy. Her career as a musician gained momentum and she was requested to play at nearly every society event she attended. Her scientific work was also well-accepted, though she suspected intervention from William on her behalf.
In June of 1876 Enoch had written a letter to her, stating that he was acting as a scout for the Yankee army and that because of this risky post, he would be able to return to her a year early. He had sent a gift, a fine wedding gown made of satin and laces from one of the finest dress makers in St. Louis. She had been ecstatic and looked forward to the future with blind optimism.
Her good fortune was not to last for long.
Later that month, the Battle of Little Big Horn took place with horrific results and the news of Custer's defeat spread across the country like wildfire. She had prayed that Enoch had ridden with Reno's men on that day but her hope was misplaced; the telegram stating his death was delivered to her while she played at a society luncheon. For the first time in her life, she fainted dead away to the dismay of the society ladies.
William had come almost immediately to her side once the news of her fainting at the luncheon reached him in Boston. She could not face him in her grief and was surprised when he left without comment and did not make another appearance for over two weeks after that. Enoch's opera had been returned to her only the day before and when he arrived and took her in his arms, she relished in the comfort conveyed by those caresses.
William provided everything for her that she could ever need and, once she had finished the opera, had used his influence to get it performed in several major cities in the world. The reviews were full of praise for both the music as well as her performances, for she had taken the title role of the Czarina and, remembering her lessons with Enoch, had stunned the world with her mezzo-soprano voice. She could sing many pieces well, but never before had stages heard a vocalist so entrancing and commanding as she in the role created especially for her.
William had been her lifeline and it was a lie to say that she did not love him. She loved him dearly, although not in the same way that she had loved her lost fiancé. She knew that he still adored her; why else would he follow her around Europe and assisting her in every endeavor? She knew that he still wanted her as a wife; that he would do anything to have her at his side. It would be unfair to both of them should she refuse to acknowledge her feelings and she knew that if Enoch were alive, he'd be berating her for her behavior. It had been several months ago at the closing performance in Milan that she had vowed to herself to accept William as a husband after her one last goal; the conquering of the Paris Opera.
A knock on the door roused her from her musings. She quickly wiped away her tears and opened the door to William who took her in his arms upon seeing her stained cheeks.
"You needn't fret, my dear...there's no use in letting him upset you so..." he murmured in her ear.
She didn't know if he meant Enoch or the confrontation with Poligny; he was certain to have heard about it upon entering the Opera. Regardless, she nodded and slowly placed her arms around him so that she now held him fast to her. She looked over his shoulder to the large mirror on the wall and saw the two of them reflected together in their embrace.
She could be happy here in his arms...but then she looked over to the wardrobe by the mirror. Hanging there was her costume for the following night, Czarina Catrina's robes in their regal splendor. She swallowed uncomfortably, bothered by the fingers of guilt that grabbed onto her heart. She settled further into the embrace, hoping to seek respite from the feelings of betrayal and unfaithfulness that tore at her chest.
A/N: Well, this was pretty long too...I didn't anticipate this chapter being this involved at all! Regardless, here it is and I hope that you don't hate me too much for the lack of plot development. As I've said before in other chapters, I'm trying to get the stage fully set so that when I rush ahead in upcoming chapters, everyone knows where these things are coming from. Honestly, when I outlined this story, I had expected to be well into the final stages of the tragedy by this point and you can imagine my surprise that I've yet to even begin it!
I find it rather amusing that everyone wanted to see Rose and Poligny 'deck it out'... I had never intended to have them go head to head, William was originally going to do it for me. I hope that it lived up to your expectations...I kinda liked the Waterford crystal though; like our heroine, it's even of Irish make.
Next chapter will have plot development. I promise you! It's just that I wanted to get everything set up for things to come.
Olethros, I had replied immediately to your review by posting an anonymous review of my own. Don't take me so literally! :-D I don't believe that I've given too much away about the character to be killed off, but when I wrote the response I did briefly consider putting him/her instead of the 'him' that you noticed. However, I hate the him/her plus it takes too much time for me to move my fingers down to type the '/'. I'm very lazy and do not type well. But honestly, I don't think I've given too much away so I hope you enjoy the story! Thanks again so much for your review!
Nne, I still love your name although I always shorten it! Thanks for the birthday wishes, you were one week late in wishing them but that is significantly better than my family who completely forgot to do so. Don't you dare shoot yourself, I want no bloody splatters on my fanfiction! I hope that you enjoy the story, even though there is not much plot development in this chapter.
Lil Shady, I thank you for your reviews! I had looked into your profile only to find that you write much about Dragonball and sadly, I have no idea what Dragonball is. Thank you for the compliments regarding this story, it's nice to know that somebody thinks it well written (I'm getting much criticism from my friends to the contrary). You must also be one of the few Phantom phans I've met who has not read Susan Kay; you must have an interesting perspective when reading the fiction on this site as much of it is considers the Kay version as canon with little regard to Leroux's original work. I'd recommend reading it when you have a chance; it is by far the best fanfiction I've read on this topic. I've also read Night Magic, The Canary Trainer, Angel and the Opera, Phantom of Manhattan, and many other well known pieces and the Kay version is, by a long shot, the absolute best.
In regards to the 'unhappy ending', I suppose I shouldn't have given it away by labeling this a tragedy. But one thing I am hoping to do is to leave a certain phantom with a sense of hope at the end of the story...hopefully, there'll be enough hope to get him through the crap with good ol' Christine...I also think that's a record for me for the number of times I've ever used the word 'hope' in a sentence; I'm a confirmed pessimist and have even written a little song about it!
AuronLives, thanks for your review! Yes, Erik is o/c and I did admit to it...he's by far the hardest character to write for in this piece. It would be so nice and easy to just ignore him altogether (hence his lack of performance in the last two chapters) but I suspect that not too many people would like me to leave the Phantom of the Opera out of the Patron of the Opera!