Chapter Thirty Eight: Awkward Letters
Leah
The clumsy inscription was like a comforting mantra as I traced it with pinpricked fingers.
The worn wood of the little knife's handle bore Henry's childish attempts at carving his name into the surface. In my terror, the dagger gave me a small measure of reassurance. He had given it to me the day I left home, and I had been moved by the symbol of his love for me. It had been his first secondary blade, and one of his most prized possessions, despite its age and rough appearance.
I knew at once that it had been a true sacrifice for him to see it go. When I had tried to refuse, he had merely quieted me with a gentle hug and a soft whisper of "You take care of yourself, Izzy." He had wanted me to be safe, and told me on one of his visits that it made him breath easier knowing that I could take care of myself. "I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you, hermana."
I wondered now if I would ever feel safe again.
The light in my cramped room was like the day. I had lit the soot caked lamp and all three of my candles, ignoring the impracticality and expense. Such trivial affairs were the furthest thing from my mind, for I was much more concerned with the ghost.
Until tonight, I had never believed in such fantasies. My Abuelo had regaled me with old family legends about specters and ghouls, but I had never taken them to heart. His favorite story was of the three men in black. Family history would have it that many of my ancestors had seen three men, cloaked in all in black, just days before their deaths.
Did this mean that I was going to die too?
Suddenly I wished that I had paid more attention to Frasquita's superstitious advice. What had she said was a protection against evil spirits? Hemlock? Or was it a coin in your shoe?
Mustard seeds, that was it! I would have to go to Mme. Theed in the morning to find some. Once the hallways were no longer dark…
Even the thought of a dark place frightened me so badly that I nearly wet myself. I pulled my tattered quilt tighter around my rigid shoulders. I was not fond of the dark to begin with, but now the only image that it conjured for me was the outline of a black, shadowy figure.
I had only glimpsed that blurry image for an instant before instinct kicked in and I fled the attic. It had been several hours since I had barricaded the door to my little room, but my fear was still just as palpable as the moment that I curled up in my bed. Nothing short of all the angels of heaven could have moved me from that spot.
And nothing did, until the work day began.
Later, that afternoon…
The events of the day had done little to ease my worries.
My mind had been bombarded with petrifying thoughts with every waking moment. Would I die soon? Had I imagined the whole thing? What if I returned to my room to find the black shadow waiting for me?
Even the tiny pouch of mustard seeds around my neck could not make the day any easier.
Of course, not even mustard seeds could ward off the terror that is Mme. Bygler. She had rapt her bony hand on my little table and castigated me for my lack of focus more times in one morning than I could count.
"I'd like to see how well you could concentrate after receiving a death omen!" I had thought to myself. "Of course, you see one every morning in the wash stand mirror, so perhaps you are used to it…"
I had been so glad to escape the costume department at lunch time that I had momentarily forgotten the annoyance of my afternoon chore.
For a pleasant change, I had only one errand to see to. Unfortunately, Madame Bygler's order of ribbons was to be picked up in an entirely distant section of Paris, requiring quite a journey on my part.
"At least I didn't have to walk." I confided quietly to Octavia as we neared the stables.
Her only response was a soft snort, sending a blast of horsy breath down my neck before I handed her reins to M Lachenel, the head groom's assistant. With a fond pat on her amiable nose, and the packages under my arm, I set out to be rid of the troublesome things. Leaving the stables, I reflected on how deeply I missed my little Tina. It seemed only yesterday that we had discovered the stables, and had been discovered in turn by Monsieur Bouquet.
As my thoughts turned to Joseph, as he insisted I address him, a small smile played at the corners of my pensive mouth. Though several years my senior, the sweet boy had become a good friend.
Since the day that Tina and I had first met him, I did not see him again until Mme. Bygler insisted that I learn to ride. She had been scandalized that her new errand girl should be so inept. She then decided that it was a necessity that I be instructed at once, in order to carry out her errands more efficiently. I had been a bit daunted by the massive animals, but had forgotten all my cares the instant that Joseph and I were reintroduced.
I had been ecstatic that he should be the one to teach me, for I had been rather taken with him at the time. After a few days (and the knowledge that he was courting a girl of his own age), however, my girlish infatuations had faded and given way to a decidedly comfortable companionship.
After only a few weeks, he deemed me 'fit' to ride in the streets. I, on the other hand, preferred to lead Octavia whenever I could, for I still felt dreadfully unstable atop her massive back. It did not help matters any that I was so very aware of my new need for caution when considering my head. Still, Joseph had been wonderfully helpful, and unexpectedly sociable.
We shared several interests, including Greco-Roman history, as was obvious in the names he helped to choose for many of the Garnier's equine residents. Cleopatra, Remus, and Hermes were only a few of his four footed constituents. I had been rather surprised to learn that he could read at all, but was quickly convinced.
It was still a rather foreign idea to my basic intuition that one might befriend another of the opposite sex. I had never related this well to any man who was not related to me, excepting Philippe of course.
"Ah, Philippe." I inwardly sighed.
Despite my best efforts, I was growing fonder of the dear man every day. I often fantasized that he would propose to …
My daydreams were cut short by a loud crash and a sharp elbow in my gut.
Lights danced in front of my eyes and blurred my vision, but in the mist of the confusion I could distinctly make out several mumbled curses emanating from whatever I had hit.
"Putai- … Oh my goodness! Leah, I didn't see you there!"
I couldn't have been more stunned than if I had bumped into the black ghost.
"Sorelli!" I cried as I recognized the figure in the fashionably cut duster. Both of our packages lay strewn about on the dusty floor. Apparently she had been shopping as well, for several unfamiliar bundles and tins were mingled with my own. "Désolé! This is all my fault."
"Nonsense." She replied gruffly. "I should have been paying more attention."
As soon as I identified the victim of my clumsiness, an uncomfortable tangle of emotions began to swell within me. I had once detested this girl, but now I was unsure of precisely what I ought to feel for her.
The grounds for my dislike had not changed a bit, for her manners and opinions were still just as odious as the first day I met her. What's more, her personal interactions with the opposite sex flew in the face of everything that my new found faith proclaimed to be right. Beth, Amanda, Alana, and Hortense had all made their opinions of her infinitely clear. She was notorious in the dormitories for her unforgettable cappers with the upper crust. It sometimes boggled the mind to think that someone so 'widely traveled' was only a few years older than myself.
But the more that I saw of her, the more complicated my view became. The same girl that insulted Beth and her moral choices as old fashioned and prude had been the one to silence the mockery of my injury. When I had returned from St. Elizabeth's, many of the more popular ballerinas had tormented my newfound positions and the red scarf that I had worn to cover my scandalous hair.
In an astonishing moment of humanity, it had been none other than Donatella Sorelli herself who had stilled their squawking with one disapproving glare. She had even gone so far as to acknowledge me in passing when we saw each other in the halls. It made no sense at all. I might have brushed off her gestures as misplaced pity, save for one unsettling detail.
Though my hair was no longer long enough to reach my thighs, it was now long enough to hide my shoulders. Despite the fact that I no longer wore the scarf, Sorelli had continued to address me civilly when we chanced upon each other.
Who was this girl, to be so hateful and so kind in turn?
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rustling paper, and I returned from my daze to see Sorelli kneeling beside me to gather her things. I joined her quickly, embarrassed by my absent thinking. The silence between us was deafening and uneasy and I raced to think of something to say to end the stillness.
"So then, Sorelli, how have you been?" It had been the only thing I could think of. Obviously the years of Abuela's etiquette training had done their job.
"What a silly thing to say!" I mentally berated myself for sounding like a fool until she responded.
"Uh, Bien, bien. Thank you for asking." She returned in a tense voice. Perhaps she felt as awkward as I did. "Et tu? Comment allez-vous ?"
"Je vais bien, aussi."
The dratted quiet returned once again to the hallway, until Sorelli asked an unexpected and unsettling question.
"Leah," She paused, unsure of herself. "Is something wrong? You seem far away."
What? How could I respond to that? I couldn't tell her the truth! I sat down on the wooden floor, leaning back against the pine wall in a shaft of warm afternoon light, completely oblivious to the impropriety of the situation.
Sensing my discomfort, she asked me again. "Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?"
"Sorelli, why have you been so … nice?" I blurted out. I regretted it at once. It sounded absolutely vulgar.
"What do you mean?" She inquired, half surprised, half offended, and entirely taken aback. She sat down beside me, and our packages lay forgotten in a pile.
"You stopped them, when they were laughing at me once. You recognize me when you see me. You never used to do that sort of thing."
"Oh." Came the quiet answer. She remained mute for a moment, her forehead furrowed by thought. "I suppose it started when I saw you in the hospital that night. I felt sorry for you."
So I had been right. It had only been pity. I felt like the lowest creature who ever slithered across the ground. "I don't want your pity!" I wanted to scream at her. "You don't understand!"
Instead, I kept quiet, cold strength filling the emptiness inside me.
When I did not speak, she continued. "When you left, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I wondered what it would be like to loose my dancing … I couldn't imagine it, Leah. I couldn't even imagine being without it. It's the only thing that has ever mattered."
I turned my head away from her, trying not to think about how painful it was to listen.
She must have seen me, for her voice softened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."
"Ce n'est pas grave." I retorted coolly, not wanting her to know. To mask my grimace, I returned to the task of collecting my things, expecting her to do the same. To my surprise, I felt her delicate hand on my shoulder.
"I never thought that any one could be strong enough to loose that much and still go on. I … I know I couldn't." Was she actually saying what I thought she was saying? Neither of us spoke for a moment. "Is it hard?"
I wanted to slap her.
Instead, I went back to collecting my things. Under one of my brown paper packages, I found an unfamiliar little tin. Curious, I examined it as Sorelli began to rummage about for her own purchases. Turning it over, I began to read the label.
"Lettres Françaises"
I nearly dropped the tin. I had never actually seen the forbidden things before, only heard them mentioned in passing. Sorelli must have noticed my pause, because she looked up to see me staring intently at the box.
We merely stared at each other, for what seemed like ages, as I grew more and more red. Finally, she snatched up the tin and stuffed it hastily into another bag.
"Um, Sorelli, what were we talking about?" I asked, trying to avoid any more unease between us.
She shot me a grateful glance before replying. "I asked you if it was difficult. Not to dance anymore, I mean."
"I suppose"
"You really can't? Not at all? Not even something simple, like a ball?"
I pondered it for a moment before answering. "I suppose I could still do that."
"So then you'll be attending the masque next month, no?"
"No. The man I've been seeing is busy." Philippe had told me a few days ago that he would be out of town that night.
"You shouldn't let that stop you, Leah." She smiled mischievously. "I can make some inquiries with a few of my friends if you'd like."
At first I was a bit shocked, but I had wanted to go rather badly. "Perhaps." I grinned back. "It might be a nice change to get out again." Philippe had been rather distant as of late, and it had been some time since I had seen the inside of a ballroom.
"I think I know a few people who might like to make your acquaintance." She added playfully as we walked towards her room.
"I make no promises, but I'll think about it." I told her as we reached her door.
"You do that. Au revoir."
"Au revoir." I walked away from her closed door more confused than I had been before talking with her.
After delivering Madame's ribbon, I slunk away to the sanctuary of my quiet room and fell into a deep sleep despite the early hour.
Unbenounced to me, I failed to notice the evening meal and a small letter outside my door, addressed in an untutored script and sealed with red wax.
Author's notes: I'll confess upfront. I DO NOT SPEAK FRENCH! If I have translated something poorly, please, please, PLEASE TELL ME! My gratitude in advance. And my congratulations to anyone who can speak French, for I am in awe of you. It is so hard to pronounce! I think I'll stick with my beloved Spanish. (hugs the abstract concept of the Spanish language.)
Superstition was a very prevalent theme in this period. The legend of the three men in black is based on a real legend. I found one version of it here: (The story is the last one on the page.) Mustard seed really was believed to ward off attackers, evil spirits, and witches. A duster was a kind of overcoat for ladies. It is perhaps a few years ahead of the period of the 1880's, but it's roughly accurate. (So please have pity and don't shoot the nutty authoress.) Also, French letters were a euphemism for condoms.
As for their first meeting, I thought that this was probably the most realistic reaction for Leah. I know that most fanfic's have the first meeting ending in passionate kissing or civilized discussion. I mean honestly, a crazy (not so dashing) masked man pops out of the wall, what would YOU do? Do you guys agree that this was a realistic reaction?
Oh, and as for there being more than one masked ball at the Garnier, Yes, there were several given each year. I cite Leroux, from chapter nine, the eighth paragraph,where he compares the atmosphere of that masque with other masques, implying that there was more than one.
Fish: Thank you ever so much dear, for all your help with the revisions as well as your wonderful comments! I hug you repetitively! As for the knife, I hope this has cleared a few things up.
Kipper: I feel LOVED! I have never had banana taffy before. Was my chapter inspired? The legs thing had to do with the fact that I said that fish did not have legs and couldn't run away. I might just play pirate, but you have to tell me what you think it is first:D
Homeless: I am glad that I keep you interested, my crispy compadre!
ALC: You got kick off? Huh?
JPT: I'm so happy that you like it! You really seem to understand where I am trying to go with the piece!
Avid: Could you be right? You'll just have to wait and see… as for Newsboys, I LOVE THAT SONG! I even bought the t-shirt.