A.N. Thanks for the reviews! And once again, I forgot to put the disclaimer. So here it is:
Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge
Christian sat watching his wife pace up and down the room. Pacing was a hobby that Satine had taken quite a liking to in the past few years. He had to admit, raising an adolescent was quite trying, but he had never seen her this nervous or upset about anything.
"Satine, what's the problem here? So she found the trunk in the attic, it was going to happen someday. As long as she still doesn't know the truth about what you did there everything is still ok." Christian said in an unsuccessful attempt to calm her down.
"No, Christian, it's not ok. Sure, right now Cassandra doesn't know the whole story, but what about ten years from now? We are going to have to tell her eventually and her finding that trunk just reminded me of that." Satine replied.
"Well, we always knew that. We'll tell her when she's ready to hear it, which is not tonight. Now stop pacing and let's both get some rest. We have to start planning Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow and I need to be rested for our annual arguments." Christian hoped the humor would help to calm Satine down. It did, if only slightly.
As Satine got into bed, she sighed and said "I just wish we didn't have to tell her. I want that part of my life to be behind me. Seeing all of those things, they just brought back some really hard memories. I went through so many hard times there
Christian feigned a hurt expression and said "Well, one of those hard times is right here, you know. And he would like to get some sleep. I'm sure by tomorrow she'll have forgotten all about that box.
"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Christian. I love you." As Satine reached to turn off the light, Christian kissed her forehead.
"I love you too, diamond" he said.
As Christian and Satine drifted off to sleep, Cassandra poked her head out of her bedroom door. After checking to see if the coast was clear, she hurried down the hallway to the attic door. She opened it very slowly, as it was known to squeak when opened too fast. Carrying a small lamp, she made her way up the dark stairs, regretting wearing only her nightgown as the drafts became more and more noticeable. One Cassandra reached the attic, she quickly made her way to the back corner and reopened her new treasure chest. She loved the feeing inside of her at that moment. It was as if a part of her diminishing childhood was returning. Careful not to unfold anything, she removed the red dress from the top of the trunk, followed by numerous other articles of clothing. Eventually, she found what she was looking for. On the bottom of the trunk she found a very old packet of paper, most likely a script judging by the layout of the text. There were also some scattered notes on random scraps of paper, all handwritten and a rolled up poster.
Cassandra took the papers and the poster to another area of the attic. She sat on a wooden box and balanced her lamp on the box just next to it and began reading the script. She guessed that she was starting at the middle of the story, because it didn't make much sense. She managed to pick up that there was a courtesan, a maharajah, and a magical sitar player along with a talking sitar. Of course, she had no idea what any of those things were. It seemed to her that while her youthful enthusiasm and excitement were fading fast, her childlike understanding of the world would never improve. As she looked closer at the script, she realized that she had indeed started at the beginning, as on the top of the page was the title, "Spectacular, Spectacular".
Next she moved on to the notes. "These must have been for the script", she thought to herself. The notes all referred to the sitar player and the courtesan, whoever they were. Some would ask whether the courtesan should meet the sitar player somewhere. Some of the notes also mentioned someone named Harold. Assuming that Harold was a character who came in later in the script, she unrolled the poster, She didn't have time to read the whole script. The poster must have been an advertisement for the play, as the poster had the play's title in large type at the top. Of course, the poster was in French, so Cassandra couldn't read the rest of the type. She did, however, manage to catch the names at the bottom of the poster. "La nouvelle piece a la Moulin Rouge. Jouer le r—le principal est Satine, aussi Harold Zidler, et beaucoup de plus." Even though Cassandra didn't read French, she picked up three words: Moulin Rouge, Satine, and Harold. She wasn't sure what made her so certain that the Harold mentioned on the poster was the same Harold mentioned in the note, but since she had no proof of the contrary she decided that it must be the same person. So Harold Zidler had been in this play with her mother.
A thought hit Cassandra. Maybe Harold was "the mean man". Maybe he was the one who tried to hurt her mother. But then why would she save the script and poster? Then another detail from the bedtime story entered her mind. The "mean man" had been a duke. Quickly, she picked up the poster again, scanning for the word "duke". On the bottom of the poster, in very small type, she found it. "L'assistance de finacial fournie par le Duke de Monorath.
"That's right, the duke gave money to the play." Having not heard the bedtime story for four years, Cassandra had forgotten some of these small details. Suddenly, she heard something moving downstairs. She decided that her snooping was done for the night and quickly returned her newfound treasures to their red trunk, except for one thing. She kept the script for herself. Maybe if she read the whole thing, she would finally have some answers.
A.N. First of all, a big thank-you to for the French translations. I took French until this year in school, but do you think I remember any of it? Please review, and I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I can.