A/n: Fianlly updating. Sorry for the long wait, and for the shortness of this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor do I own Elizabeth White. The Phantom of the Opera is owned by Gaston Leroux (...does to...) and Elizabeth White belongs to Vampiress787.
A week later, Denise was alone in the costume-room, sketching. She had convinced herself that she enjoyed this- the privacy, the quiet of being alone. There were beautiful things surrounding her: bright colors of silken fabric, white lace strewn everywhere, glitter covering everything. The only sounds were of people walking by, going about their business, whether it be cleaning or seeing the management or gossiping (with occasional dancing). There was also the slight sound of her pencil against the paper, and it was oddly calming. She could escape the world while designing. She could convince herself there were no such things as lust or greed or evil.
The only problem was she couldn't quite get the design for the new costume for Norma quite right. Though it didn't quite matter...there was no lead soprano yet. Carlotta was long-gone, and their replacement had suddenly disappeared (probably with her lover). So today they were holding auditions.
Whenever a drawing had her really frustrated, she'd leave the room and stand outside the stage (where they were auditioning singers). The second was worse then the first, some as bad as Carlotta, until Denise couldn't stand it anymore. She'd walk back to the Costume Room, feeling better about her own horrible singing, but worse about the costume design. If the singer they hired was as bad as Carlotta, then the costumes better stick in the patron's memories.
Then again, people didn't go to the Opera for the Opera anymore. Now they only came to 'see and be seen'. That had always been why Rosemary and Simon came. Simon especially. He seemed to dislike the whole world of Opera, and only stood it because it was Denise's passion and the social beehive. If you weren't there every single gala night, you weren't worth knowing.
Denise forced herself to stop thinking about Simon. If she thought about him too much, her heart would start to hurt and tears would prick her eyes and she would lose her cool, calm façade. And that was something she could not possibly allow.
Denise took in a deep breath and enjoyed the scent of the lead, the dead roses in a vase in the corner of the room, and the oil lamp mixing together. It calmed her thoughts and helped her concentrate better. All she had to think about now was drawing what she had in her mind.
One fine line here, one there. Small circle here, there. Lines. One line after another after another…
"You should audition."
A dark voice echoed though the room. Denise dropped her pencil, but not before jumping and ruining the sketch.
Her mind screamed: It's the Phantom! What does he want with me? Why was he here again, talking to her?
It took her a moment to process the exact words: You should audition. What? Hadn't he told her she sounded like a goat a week ago? Surely he knew she couldn't sing. He was the Phantom, after all. He knew everything there was possible to know about music. He should know, then, that there was no possible hope for her voice, and therefore no possible hope for her to make the audition. And besides, she didn't want to sing anyways. The last she had truly sung was with Simon, unless you counted that one time…but that was more of releasing her soul than singing…
All this was thought in only a brief moment, and a short brief moment later she responded:
"What?" she asked, in shock. In that situation, it was the only thing she could think of to say. That, and the fact that fear was beginning to grip her insides, making it impossible to breathe or think. Why was she so terrified?
Because he's killed, her mind answered.
But surely he doesn't mean to kill me… she argued with herself. But then…why did she have this feeling of awaiting doom?
"You should audition." The voice repeated itself, in the exact same tone. It didn't sound amused or annoyed…simply…empty…completely devoid of emotion.
"I can't sing, you said so yourself." Denise said stupidly. Her mind was numb, she could only say the first words that came into her mind…she couldn't wait and think of something more elegant to say.
"You should audition." The Phantom repeated again, but this time went on: "I said that you needed training."
"You also said I sung like a goat." Slipped out of Denise's mouth before she could stop it.
"Audition." The voice sounded commanding now.
"No." Denise said, and then gasped. Had she-no, she couldn't have-
She quickly gathered her things and ran for the door. Her hand was on the handle when the Phantom spoke again:
"Audition." He sounded angry now.
Denise turned to face the room. She knew she wouldn't be able to find him in there (how long had he been in there?), but she felt it would only be polite if she tried to face him.
"Monsieur Phantom, I don't want to. I can't sing, and I do not wish to. Please, let me be." She asked, and then left the room.
A few days later, Denise walked down the halls of the Opera, heading for the Costume Room. She had finally gotten the costume for Norma just right, and now she had to find the right fabric for it.
"Mademoiselle Noel!" a young messenger-boy ran down the hall. Denise recognized him as young Pierre, the manager's personal messenger.
"Yes, Monsieur?" she asked.
"The managers want to see you, right away!"
Denise's heart almost stopped. Why? Why would the managers want to see her? Did they know she had been speaking with the Phantom? Did they want her to speak to her sister about something?
She began down the hall, questions of that nature plaguing her mind. When she finally reached the office door, it was closed. She glanced around, looking for their secretary to let her know if they were seeing someone or not, but she didn't see him. She knocked softly on the door.
"Come in!" she heard one snap. She took in a deep breath then opened the door and stepped in.
Both the managers were behind one large desk, which was covered with papers. There was a small statuette of the Emperor in one corner of the desk, and the desk was of red oak. There was an old bookcase by them, as well, but Denise didn't have enough time to look at the rest of the room.
"Mademoiselle Noel, good." Said one of the managers as he stood. Was it Monsieur Firmin, or Monsieur André? She could never tell them apart…
"You asked for me, Monsieur?" Denise asked softly.
"Yes." He said, looking for something on his desk, which was covered with new contracts. They had been completely re-forming the cast lately. "You are our new lead soprano."
Denise's mind went blank for a moment, until one thought managed to enter her mind: The Phantom.
"Monsieur, I am afraid you must be mistaken." She said. "I did not audition."
"No matter. We have a note here saying that you are the new lead..."
"Who is the note from?" Denise asked, and the manager froze, realizing what he had just said.
"I cannot say."
"May I see it?"
"No."
Denise sighed.
"Monsieur, I do not sing. I will not sing."
"You do not have a choice, Mademoiselle. You have a signed contract." The other managers said, holding up a paper that Denise immediately recognized. It was her contract...a contract she had signed five years ago, when she hadn't been smart enough to not only read through it, but study it as well. It had never specified her exact job there. Simply that she would earn maximum salary for her position, and that her time there would last ten years. It had seemed so ideal before, but now it was her cage...
"Your understudy is Mademoiselle Elizabeth White. We suggest you speak to her before rehearsals, which begin tomorrow at two o' clock. Good day, Mademoiselle." Said the manager who had risen first. Denise opened her mouth to argue, but it was useless.
"Good day." She said, and she turned and left the office.
She sighed on her way down the halls back to the costume room. Why? Why had this happened? She knew she couldn't sing, she had been told that all her life, and she finally had started to believe it. It didn't matter that she had once been the understudy of such singers as Carlotta and Daaé, it didn't matter that many thought she would be the next big star. It all came down to one thing- no one cared what the Opera sounded like, they only came to see and to be seen.
Lost in her thought, she did not notice the moment when a lady her age stepped in front of her until it was too late; they collided.
"Oh! I'm sorry." They both said at the same time. The lady laughed, and Denise smiled weakly.
"Do you know where the managers' office is? I was told to see them; I'm the new understudy..."
"Right down this hall, to the right." Denise told her. "Mademoiselle White?"
"Yes, how did you...?"
"I just came from the office. I am Denise Noel, the Opera's new lead soprano."
"Oh!" Mademoiselle White exclaimed. "Pleased to meet you."
"Pleased to meet you, as well." Denise said with another weak smile. This lady was a couple inches taller then her, with nearly the same blonde hair her sister had, but dark blue eyes instead of light. She was fair, and slender, and soft-spoken and everything Denise wanted to be.
"Perhaps we should practice together sometime?" Mademoiselle White suggested.
"Yes, perhaps." Denise said.
"I should go to the office now...pleasure meeting you." Mademoiselle White said again.
"Yes, indeed. Good day." Denise said.
"Good day." Mademoiselle White said with a bright smile, then she walked around Denise to the managers' office.
Denise followed her into the office with her eyes, and wished her better luck then she had had with them.
RubyMoon's Secret Place
RubyMoon: Well, there it is. Not great, but after the next chapter things begin to...spice up. Please Review. Ja Ne!