Audition
Finally I decided her sword skills were good enough. Being short, she had mastered the passada even better than I had, and her reactions were excellent. After she managed to score five touches in a row one class, it was time.
I went over to the boat where she had always slept. She was reading, as usual. "What are you reading?" I asked her.
"Richard III," she said.
One of my favorites. Richard always reminded me of me, even though I knew Shakespeare only wrote him that way to be politically safe. "Would you be interested in acting in the Opera Populaire?"
She looked at me under her lashes. "You mean, sing and dance for all those people? I could?"
"Of course you could. You sing even better than Marinette." Marinette was the prima donna, and one of the best they had had yet—for one thing, she was intelligent.
"So I could?"
"I just said you could."
She smiled and considered. "All right."
I nodded my approval. "But there's one thing you'll need to promise me. You cannot go into any bedroom with a boy."
She frowned, then pursed her lips. "Yes, I promise."
I was intensely relieved I didn't have to explain myself. "You'll need to have a song and a dance to show them. I have a song that I think will work." I went to the oubliette and got out the sheets of music that I had hidden ten years ago. The paper was yellowing and the ink was fading, but it was still readable. It was Think of Me. Adele's voice was perfect for it, and maybe Meg would understand. Meg was the dance teacher, now—her mother had moved to Brussels three years ago. I gave the music to Adele, and she looked it over. She sang the complicated bit at the end experimentally.
"I don't really like that," she commented, wrinkling her nose.
"I don't either, but do it anyway. You'll sing it well enough. Are you ready to try the whole thing?" She nodded and took a breath. I listened to her, and I remembered when I had taught Christine this song, but when she had sung it on the stage, she had sung it for Raoul.
Adele stopped short. "Papa, why are you crying?"
"Keep going." She did.
"Now tell me," she said impetuously at the end.
"When you know why the Opera Populaire hates me, I'll tell you. But, now, notes. You went too high on the word 'you'll' here—you sounded like Carlotta."
"Carlotta?"
"A prima donna who drove me insane. And this note here…" An hour later, she sang it better than Christine could have. She could do one of her ballet routines without the music, so I thought that the sooner we left, the better. I glanced at the clock. It was three-twenty-seven p.m., Monday the twenty-first of August, 1891. Perfect timing.
"Adele, could you audition now, do you think?"
"Now? Well, I suppose so."
I put on my melodramatic cape. "Then let's go. I'll bring your things up tomorrow."
"Thank you." She got in the boat and I poled it to the street exit nearest to the opera house. I opened the door and told her, "Go out the door and turn left. You'll see a huge staircase with a huge double door—that's the opera house. Knock with the knocker and tell the doorman that you want to audition. If he tells you that you can't tell him…that the PTO told your father that he will be angry if you aren't let in."
"All right."
Good luck, Adele." I kissed her cheek and started to go back. Suddenly she screamed.
"It's so bright!" she said holding her eyes.
I cursed myself. I hadn't taken her outside in the daylight in ten years. "Cover your eyes with your sleeve until you can open them all the way." Five minutes later she tentatively took her arm away from her eyes and went to the left. I went to the Heavens and into my box to wait. They were rehearsing Faust again. Performance started in a week, and things were just starting to get truly frantic as people realized that they had forgotten important set pieces, props, costumes, etc.
Adele came in almost immediately upon my entrance. Apparently the doorman hadn't given her a hard time, which I was glad of. There was a lengthy talk with the managers, three brothers named Charles, Jacques, and Michel Varins. Finally, Adele was ushered onstage as the conductor signaled for a stop. Adele started to sing. Meg came in, apparently expecting to see rehearsal, and looked quite surprised. She glanced up to my box, then smiled and came up.
"Who is she?" she asked.
"My daughter, Adelita."
"The one Yvette tried to kidnap ten years ago?"
"Yes."
She watched. "You have taught her well."
"Thank you, Meg." Adele finished her song, and Meg applauded. Luckily for me, so many were applauding that nobody noticed two people applauding from box five. Adele curtsied, blushing furiously, and began her dance. Meg looked stunned. "You taught her that?"
"I'm insulted, Meglet," I pouted, using the name I had made up when I had first met her.
She stuck out her tongue. "She's incredible."
"Thank you."
She squeezed my hand. Great, loud bells went off in my head. "It's good to have you back, Erik." I said nothing. She had never, ever, touched me before, not even when she had brought me back my mask. I turned to look at her, but she was gone. Ballet training had made it impossible to hear her come—or go. I looked down at the audience. Adele was still standing on the stage, looking a bit vulnerable with her hands behind her back and switching her weight from foot to foot. The Brothers Varins were huddled with the music director and Meg. How had she gotten there so fast? There were nods, then Charles Varins stepped out. "All right, Mlle. Adelita, you may join our ranks." There were cheers, and she curtsied again, smiling broadly. The Phantom returned.
A/N: Happy Valentines' Day. The next chapter is Chapter Two, but it won't be up for a while. I think there's going to start being more time between updates, because there's another fic I'm working on that desperately needs an update. The fic is The Ring of the Rohirrim: There if you're interested (please be) and I think it's not bad, if a bit Mary-Sueoid.