Chapter Forty: To Dance with the Devil

Leah

The air around me sang with anticipation and overwhelmed my senses.

The room was alive with movement as nearly thirty dancers flitted about, searching for lost garters, misplaced rouge, and communal liquor. Bright electric lights threatened to blind me while Sorelli's hot curling iron hissed only a few terrifying inches away from the back of my neck. Perfume and brandy hung heavy against a backdrop of chirping and tittering that would have made any aviary jealous.

From my perch on a stool in the smallest of the public dressing rooms, it was all I could do not to be driven mad. Even during the most expansive productions, the little room had never seen so much commotion, nor so many bodies.

Apparently, they had originally planned to sneak into one of the larger ones, but had failed to pick the lock. If I had had any idea of what Sorelli had been proposing in offering to help me nearly a month ago, I would have run screaming in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, God had never seen fit to grant me the gift of foresight.

Bereft of such a miracle, I had finally given in to Sorelli's insistence that I join her and her entourage in preparing for the masked ball. She had been quite persistent in hounding me in the matter. It appeared that, for some reason far beyond my fathoming, she had taken a liking to me. To be truthful, the sentiment was not a one sided affair.

Try as I might, I could not seem to distance myself from her, nor from the world that she lived in. This group around me was a shocking contrast to quiet nights in the company of my friends. Shocking, and oddly exciting. Every second with them was fascinating and new, a source of forbidden knowledge and taboo perspectives. Though I had hesitated to become involved with girls who lived such lifestyles, I had convinced myself that one night would not harm anyone, least of all myself.

Thus I found myself in the midst of this giggling gaggle, only hours away from a night that I had been anticipating for weeks.

"Leah? Bonjour? Have you heard anything I've said?" My 'hairdresser' interjected. She had been nattering on relentlessly all night about her handsome escort. After the first few seconds, I had lost interest. How could I listen when I was so anxious about my own evening?

"What? Oh, pardoneme Sorelli. I can't seem to keep my mind on anything tonight."

"Still mooning about your mysterious new beau?" She poked my side playfully. "Can't say that I blame you. It's all so romantic! Anonymous notes, pretty flowers, and a secret admirer to boot. You must just be lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it!" I retorted, keeping up the jest. "Men are simply drawn to my natural feminine charms." I smiled with a forced façade of confidence.

If only my self-assurance weren't such a farce! I longed to be more like Sorelli, sure of myself and ready to advance against the entire world.

"I don't know about that." She wagged a good-humored finger in my face. "But I suppose it's the only reason that I can think of. What else could have attracted such a man to you?"

"Well, now! I am deeply insulted by that remark!" I made to turn and face her with my sarcastic grin, but she laid a restraining hand on my shoulder.

"If you don't stop your awful wiggling, I am afraid that you are going to be deeply burnt. Now sit still! I only have a few more strands to go."

I complied restlessly, for I was impatient to be done. As I sat motionless, I began to honestly wonder why any man would have sought out my hand tonight. And in such a bold fashion! Why would anyone be so interested in a dull, skinny errand girl?

A few weeks ago, I had returned to my small cellar room to find an unexpected package. Sorelli had walked back with me from her afternoon classes, once again attempting to convince me to attend the dance. As every day before, I had politely been trying to decline. It was beyond improper to attend such an event without an escort or a chaperone, and I had neither, despite her best efforts to procure me a partner.

As we came to my door, our conversation had ceased. Lying in our path was a small bouquet of flowers and a sealed envelope. I had stood dumb-struck and muttered that someone must have delivered them here by mistake.

Inwardly, I wondered if Philippe had had some sort of epiphany about our relationship. Lately, he had been more and more distant, and each time I had met him, I had feared that it would be the night that he would end our little affair. This gift could not be from him, though I wished it so with all my heart. And besides, the Comte would never have sent me something so daring.

As Sorelli pounced upon the note and declared that it was in fact addressed to me, I had examined the audacious flowers. Red tulips, yellow acacias, pink vervain, and delicate sweet peas. What a bold assortment of messages!

Red tulips meant a declaration of admiration. The acacia stood for secret affection, while pink vervain spoke of enchantment. Most surprising of all were the sweet peas, for they signified an invitation.

But an invitation of what? And who was doing the inviting?

Once Sorelli had made her exit from my grimy home, I locked the door and examined the missive. It was indeed addressed to me.

Leah Iglesias was scrawled out in polite black ink on the heavy, gold-lined paper, but the handwriting appeared to be that of a drunken four-year old.

Was this someone's idea of a practical joke? Perhaps one of the younger stable hands had thought to emulate Joseph and his propensity to have an occasional friendly laugh at my expense. I found that my free hours were more and more often spent in his company, and I had made the acquaintance of several likely little miscreants. But this seemed a bit too unkind to be a prank.

My fingers trembled with anticipation as I broke the unmarked wax of the yellow seal. I had needed to reread the letter several times before I could bring myself to believe that I was awake.

Dearest Mademoiselle,

Please allow me to apologize for my uncouth behavior a few nights past. It was I who interrupted your evening endeavors, and for that I can only submit my deepest and sincere regrets. My conduct was most unbecoming of a gentleman. I beg your forgiveness for my disrespect of your person and your privacy.

I nearly dropped the paper in my hands. It had been a man? My fears were unproved? Sensations of relief, curiosity, and irritation struggled within me as I continued to read.

It would greatly assuage my guilty conscience if you would consent to grace me with your enchanting hand in the near future. I should dearly like to explain my recent behavior and would be delighted to better make your acquaintance. It would be my honor to attend the upcoming opera masque in the glow of your radiant company.

Should you choose to accept my respectful invitation, please send me word by way of the honorable Dr. Giry, a mutual acquaintance of ours.

If you answer in the affirmative, I shall await you in the Lunar Sala. You will know me by a blue king's-spear in my buttonhole.

With deepest respect,

An admirer

I was flattered, curious, and eager, a volatile cocktail of emotions. There were far too many questions to reject his complimentary invitation. Besides, I had not heard such flowery language from a man since the last girl that Henry had been smitten with.

I had to admit that whoever this man was, he certainly knew how to impress a girl.

I could only hope that this mysterious gentleman would find me as impressive. I had been planning my appearance carefully, making sure to accentuate my best features, but keeping modest at the same time. Weeks of consideration had gone into this one night.

I nervously wandered back to my room to make final adjustments to my face. Standing in front of the small, age worn mirror above my washstand, I carefully examined my reflection and smoothed the pale pink gown over my hips. As I scrutinized Sorelli's artful confection atop my head, I released the clasp of my necklace.

I laid the silver chain and its little key on the rough wood of the dubious washstand with tender and bittersweet respect. It had not left my neck since the day that Abuela had placed it there, except for practices and balls. I fingered the warm metal thoughtfully. It was odd to think that something so commonplace could hold so many memories.

While gazing absently at the keepsake, I was suddenly struck with an epiphany. Thoughts of my family and the day that I had been given the key triggered a memory of the mysterious box. I had forgotten it completely until now! I quickly resolved to end its mystery that night, in the half of an hour that remained until my peculiar rendezvous.

Fumbling in the dark recesses of my dusty clothes cupboard, I retrieved the beautiful wooden box and set it on my rumpled bed. With tremulous hands and a fluttering heart, I turned the little key and heard the tumblers of the lock fall into place. I opened the lid slowly, halting when startled by a soft melody that began to play. For a moment, I let go of the lid and listened to the familiar melody of 'Pregúntale a Las Estrellas'.

Emboldened my old lullaby, I returned to my heart pounding task.

When the lid was opened, I could only gasp in shock.

Authoress's Notes: To celebrate the forty chapter milestone, I shall give you a hint about next chapter. It will be titled 'Pandora's Tear', and you may find out what is in the box. Oh yeah, two some bodies might just finally get around to meeting face to face, if you know what I mean… Just a little something to chew on till next update. (Cackles evilly, delighted with her newest dastardly scheme to keep you all on the edge of your seats till next chapter.) By the by, does Eric seem to be evolving more into the Phantom that we are all more familiar with? What did you think of how I started to change his character? (And I assure you, I'm not done. Not by a long shot.)

Gold lined paper and black ink were the appropriate stationary for a well to do gentleman at the time. As opposed to Eric's later use of black lined stationary and red ink. For reference to a selection of the aforementioned song, check out the chapter notes for chapter twenty nine.

Homeless- The best? I am red like a fire engine here. (blushes) And yes, I am a twisty little soul. Is it the cold or the naked part that interests you?

Kipper- Yes, you are an unusual fish, but then again, I'm a pretty odd authoress… I did receive the e-mail about your pirate-able material, and I may consider grabbing my eye-patch. We'll see how it plays out, no? Yep, Eric is nutty (and been celibate for thirty-odd years), but I too watch L&O SUV. Perhaps that is why?

Avid- Si, you are indeed correct. I'm going to be a collage freshman next year, so you can make your guesses about my age.

JPT- Oui, Sorelli has some things to learn about life … whoops, wouldn't want to give anything away, no would I? Sure, who says you can't buy sanity? You can find it in your friendly grocer's freezer, in tubs labeled 'pecan praline ice cream'.

Fish- WHAT? No more proverbials? I'm melting, I'm melting! Oh well, at least I am constantly misinforming the huddled masses with my chapter notes. I think I confused Zerlina with Elvira? Urg. Can't research… need libretto… drat those nasty library check out limits!