Prologue
Paris 1919
The car jerked roughly down the road. The young woman in back was jostled as she watched the countryside fade into the city. She would be there soon. She looked down at the small note in her hand. It told where to go and what to do, but it didn't tell her why. She didn't need to know that though. She just had to get there.
Slowly the car turned onto the road that lead to the old opera house, the Opera Populaire. She moved closer to the small window to see the once magnificent building. It was now scared and deformed; no one had bothered to fix it since the disaster. She sighed and sat back. The car jerked to a sudden stop, and driver quickly came around to open the door. The young girl was already getting out.
"Wait here," she ordered. "I won't be long."
She brushed by the driver and walked in the huge entrance way. She looked around, trying to imagine what the music hall must have once looked like. She stopped suddenly and hearing a gavel sound from where the stage had once been. She turned to see an older man motioning for her. He was the auctioneer.
"Your number, Mademoiselle," he said politely.
The young woman walked up and handed the man her little note. He nodded his thanks. She could feel everyone looking at her. Each person in the room thought that they knew her. She looked so familiar, yet so different. She ignored their eyes and turned to the auctioneer.
"Lot 665," he said. "A papier-mâché music box, attached to the top a figure of a monkey in Persian robes, playing the symbols. It is still in working order, ladies and gentlemen."
The auctioneer turned to the young man holding the music box. They young man nodded, and the monkey started to play along with the music. The young woman looked up at hearing the familiar tune. She had heard it all her life.
"Masquerade," she sang in a whisper. "Paper faces on parade."
She knew that this was the piece. The auctioneer opened the bids at fifteen francs. The young woman held up her hand, and so did an older woman. The young woman looked over to see who had dared bid against her. She saw the face of a very old friend.
"I have fifteen, do I hear twenty?"
The old friend raised her hand; the young girl raised hers too. She couldn't let this music box get away from her. The auctioneer raised the price; however, only the young girl raised her hand. He looked over at the older woman, and she sadly shook her head.
"Sold!" He announced, hitting the gavel. "To…"
The man stopped as he saw the young woman shake her head. She did not want her name known to anyone in that room. The usher handed her the music box, and she stared at it transfixed by it simplicity and beauty. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she thought of what it meant to her.
"Every detail, exactly as she said," the young woman whispered. "Will you still play when she is dead?"
The auctioneer announced another number. The young woman barley heard it until he said something that caught her ear. She looked up at the man and then over at the huge, broken chandelier.
"Many of you have probably heard of the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera. A mystery never fully explained. Some believe that this is the very chandelier that figures in the tragedy." He paused, looking at the small crowd's reaction. "Our work men however have repaired it and wired parts for the new electric light. Perhaps we can frighten away this ghost with a little illumination."
The young woman looked at the floor. She knew the tale that he talked about; she had heard it since childhood. She turned to old woman, and she was smiling. The young woman tried to smile, but it was very faint.
"Gentlemen," the auctioneer said.
The men suddenly threw off the huge cover over the broken chandelier. Then there was a huge spark as it came to illuminated life. The men started to slowly raise it, and as they did both women could see the Opera Populaire return to its original and beautiful form.
They could see the seats turn back to their bright, red velvet. The huge statues that held up the balcony boxes shine their radiant gold, and the stage come back to form. The most beautiful thing was that they could see the chandelier rise to the ceiling, which was painted with clouds and angels. They could also hear the sounds of a rehearsal that had almost been forgotten.
Chapter One
The Opera Populaire
There was music echoing through the halls of Paris's most beautiful opera house. People were rushing around, trying to make it to rehearsal without anyone noticing they were late. Some of the dancers were putting on their costumes or adjusting their shoes. Soloists were standing in front of their mirror, preparing to hit all their notes.
There was a strange sensation in the air. It was as if something new and exciting was about to happen. The air was filled with a heightened madness that was worse than opening night. It crept through the walls and around the stage, feeling everyone with anxiety.
"Maria," a voice called down the backstage corridor. "Maria!"
A beautiful young woman raised her head at hearing her name. She brushed some of her dark brown hair away from her eyes and turned to the person who had called her name. It was Madame Giry, the ballet mistress. She seemed troubled about something.
"What's wrong?" Maria asked.
"It's Carlotta," Madame Giry replied. "She ripped her skirt again."
Maria sighed. It was the third time that she had had to fix the diva's costume. She stood up and walked out toward the stage. Madame Giry followed close behind.
Maria had just turned twenty-one. She was young, beautiful, smart, and very good with sewing equipment. She had come to the opera house when she was only a child. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her father had died when she was nine. Ten years she had lived at the here, learning everything she could about music, costumes, and the world of the opera.
Maria walked out onto the vast stage. The players were standing around, listening to the diva rave. She walked over to see how bad the tear actually was. She took a few steps, and then Carlotta erupted.
"You!" Carlotta yelled, pointing to Maria. "I told you to fix this skirt and finish my costume for act three!"
Maria sighed. Of all people in the Opera House, Carlotta was the only one that she couldn't get along with. She ignored the complaints and grabbed a small sewing kit from a nearby table. She then returned to Carlotta's side to find only a small rip where a fake jewel had fallen off. She had just pulled out a needle when she heard male footsteps on the stage. She looked past Carlotta's hulking thighs to see Mr. Lefevre, the Opera Populaire's owners, leading two men across the stage.
The two men were dressed nicely with top hats and canes. They seemed very impressed with the place. She could see that Lefevre was talking, but she couldn't hear what was being said. She turned back to her chore. Suddenly Carlotta turned and took a step toward the two gentlemen.
"Carlotta," Maria almost yelled. "Don't!"
It was too late. Carlotta turned, putting the needle right into her leg. Maria quickly pulled the small tool away. Carlotta swiftly swung around and landed her hand firmly on Maria's cheek with a loud crack.
The whole opera house fell silent at hearing the sound. Many people turned to see what had happened. Maria gently rubbed her cheek, trying to make the redness go away. Carlotta smiled and laughed off what she did. Maria wanted to poke her again, but stopped.
Lefevre walked over and stopped. He looked down at Maria, concerned. Maria only shook her head. He nodded and then turned to everyone.
"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, Maria, you have all hear rumors of my imminent retirement," he sighed. "I can now tell you that they are all true."
He looked down and met Maria's very shocked and sad eyes. Lefevre had been like a father to Maria since she had come to the opera house. She quickly turned back to her work, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Lefevre then motioned to two men that were standing by, flirting with the dancing girls.
"I would like to introduce you to the new owners of the Opera Populaire," he waited to finish until the two men were standing with him. " M. Richard Firmin and M. Gilles Andre."
The two bowed to everyone. Maria looked them over carefully. She looked away and went back to work. Carlotta started walking toward them, and Maria stopped her. The two men looked over at them and smiled. Then another man stepped onto the stage.
He was young, with light green eyes, and long brown hair. There was a bounce in his step of someone who always got what they went after. He was also dressed in what looked the very best. Anyone who saw him could tell that he was rich. He walked past Carlotta and Maria and over to the men.
Maria had been watching the young man since she saw him move across the stage. She was in awe of him. He was handsome and young, which was something that was rare among the opera crowd. She could also see that he had class, and that was in terrible demand. Carlotta moved a little as she watched the boy pass. Maria moved to get a better look and crashed down on the stage. The young man, Carlotta, and M. Lefevre looked over at her. She smiled and helped herself up.
"Slick spot there, someone better clean that up before tonight," she said standing.
Maria quickly got off the stage. She cursed her clumsiness and foolishness. She walked back down the corridor when there was a loud scream from the stage. She spun on her heel, knowing the screamer. She started back for the stage when she noticed something moving in the shadows.
Maria searched the rafters above her. The shadows made good cover for whatever was hiding. She started for the stage when another movement caught her eye. Something white had caught the light. She looked up and for one instant locked eyes with the legendary "opera ghost".
Maria didn't know what to do. Every story told her that this man was an ugly creature, barely alive. The thing or man she had seen had not looked like that. They each held their gazes until footsteps were echoing down the corridor. As if by magic the ghost disappeared.
"Maria, Maria," a voice called.
Maria pulled herself from the trance she had fallen in. She turned to see Meg Giry running to her. Meg was close to Maria's age and one of her closest friends. Maria grabbed Meg by the shoulders to stop her. She wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was to protect the hidden ghost.
"He was here!" Meg shouted.
"What?" Maria said, looking at the now deserted rafters.
"The Phantom of the Opera," Meg panted. "He was here."
"Meg, slow down."
"Carlotta was trying to show off for the new managers, and he dropped a piece of set of her!"
Maria couldn't help but smile. She was also glad to see that she wasn't the only one who hated Carlotta. She let out a small chuckle. Meg turned to her and gave her a funny look.
Maria cleared her throat. "Is Carlotta all right?"
Meg smiled. "She's fine. I think she's still throwing a fit about what happened."
Maria shook her head. Meg took her arm. Maria looked at the girl.
"Are you all right?" Meg asked.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Maria asked in reply.
"I don't know you just seem different."
Maria shrugged. She had not meant to worry her friend. She was worried however. She had made costumes for Lefevre so long; now she had to prove herself to the new mangers. Meg could see that her friend had a lot on her mind.
Suddenly M. Lefevre walked up. He looked over at the two girls. Maria wanted to turn away. She didn't want to say goodbye to her old friend and father figure.
"Meg," Lefevre started. "Could I have a moment with Maria?"
Meg nodded and walked away quite quickly. Lefevre offered his arm to Maria; she took it gently. They both started walking towards her room.
"I know this isn't easy for you," Lefevre said softly.
Maria only managed a small nod. She wasn't sure what her old friend was getting at. She let go of his arm and stopped suddenly.
"I have spent ten years of my life here. Your eyes along with Madame Giry's watching over me. You have been like a father to me, and you had no plan to say goodbye did you?"
Lefevre sighed. "Maria, you are a wonderful young woman, but you can't live your whole life in hiding in the shadows."
Maria nodded. "I know, but I have no talent."
"You have made some of the most beautiful costumes I have ever seen and you can sing."
"Not well enough to step from the shadows."
Lefevre smiled a little at the beautiful girl before him. He tenderly kissed her forehead. "If you need me, I shall be in Australia."
Maria smiled through her tears. She watched as Lefevre walked away. He would not stay for the show. She walked in her room and changed into her work dress. She knew it would be a busy night.
