"Love Comes To Those Who Wait"

By Nabira

CHAPTER 2

ISABELLA HAD NEVER imagined that there would be so much work that would go into a showcase. There were rehearsals, visits to the costume designer and sound checks and three days after her first visit, Isabella was once again knocking on the door to Philippe Cuvier's office. Like the first time, the door swung open after she had only knocked once. But this time, Isabella was ready for the sight that was Philippe.

After a bit of gentle probing around the Opera House, Isabella had learnt quite a bit about Philippe. He was twenty-four years old, six years older than Isabella, and, as well as being a composer, he was a splendid piano player. Isabella had also learnt that he was a French native and an only child who was searching for his family tree, which was what had led him to the Opera House.

Philippe smiled at Isabella as she walked into his office. "Hello, Mademoiselle de Chagny, I hope you are well," he said in a friendly tone. Isabella smiled with pleasure.

"Please, Monsieur Cuvier, it's Isabella," she said politely. She was not used to anyone calling her 'Mademoiselle de Chagny' and she had had enough of it since she had arrived in France.

Philippe smiled. "Then I must extend the same invitation to you," he said warmly. "Please, call me Philippe."

Isabella smiled happily. "Certainly," she replied, sitting in the seat at Philippe's desk.

Philippe sat at the other side and picked up a piece of paper. "Now, to business," he said, looking pointedly at Isabella. "Have you given much thought to what you would like to play in the showcase?"

Isabella had been thinking about pieces since she had left Philippe's office the other day. "I was thinking about Faure's Sicilienne," she started, until she was interrupted by Philippe.

"No!" he said, causing Isabella to jump slightly. "It's too generic." Philippe picked up his piece of paper once again. "You need something that is going to showcase your talent." Philippe smiled evilly. "Have you heard of Mozart's Concerto Number 1 in G Major?"

Isabella looked at him, partly shocked. "The Concerto is one of the hardest pieces in the flute repertoire," she said almost speechless.

Philippe grinned. "Exactly," he said. "It will prove that you're not just another flute player." He placed a tick next to the title of the piece on his paper. "Only the first movement of course though, otherwise it's too long." Philippe looked at the paper once again. "Next, I think you should do Debussy's Arabesque and Massenet's Meditation de Thais."

Isabella nodded. "They're both beautiful pieces," she said, agreeing with his choices.

Philippe nodded. "We need to have about two hours of music," he said, "give or take ten or so minutes. Each half is about an hour in length."

Isabella nodded. "Well, then, what about Genin's Variations on Carnival of Venice?"

Philippe smiled. "Now you're talking," he said, adding that to his list. "We need to talk about orchestral numbers too," he said, reminding Isabella that there would be a few pieces where she would not be playing. "I was thinking about The Moldau for an opening piece."

Isabella understood why. The Moldau opened with a flute solo that reminded Isabella of water flowing. "It's a bit long, though, isn't it?" she asked, remembering that the entire piece went for over ten minutes.

Philippe nodded. "We'll need to cut it back a bit," he said, knowing full well that audience attention would not be held by pieces of over seven minutes in length.

An hour later, Isabella had her program organised and Philippe was ready to start arranging pieces for the orchestra.

"I'll let you know when I have music available for you," Philippe said, ushering Isabella out the door. "We've got two months before the first concert, and you're the third performance of the season, one concert a week." Philippe smiled. "So, we've got nearly three months, thankfully."

Isabella smiled. She knew Philippe had his work cut out for him, organising two hours of music for fifteen performers each, no piece allowed to be the same.

"So, I'll see you next time, Isabella," Philippe said, shaking her hand.

Isabella smiled. "See you, Philippe," she said, walking away as he closed the door.

Once again, when Isabella left, Philippe's nerves were on end. He moved over to the cupboard in the room and after taking out a bottle, he poured himself a brandy, downing it in one shot.

Philippe knew it was unwise of him, but most of his effort since he had met Isabella had gone into the pieces she would play. There were fourteen other performers he had to consider, two whose performances would come before Isabella's. He knew he had to stop thinking about the girl whose face haunted him day and night and instead concentrate on his job, for both of their sakes.

-♥-

THE DAY OF the first performance dawned bright and clear. The Opera season had kicked off with a bang the previous week, with a performance of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. The season was shaping up to be one of the Opera's best for a while and the showcase was also warranting much attention.

It was with a rueful look out the window that Isabella rushed to the final rehearsal that morning. It was to be a sound check more than anything, but the performers were required to wear their orchestra uniforms and the soloists, the clothes they would be wearing that evening.

Benjamin Seymour, an extraordinarily talented trumpeter from England, had drawn the short straw and was the very first of the young adults in the showcase to perform. At just sixteen years of age, he was the youngest of the fifteen performers and played in a great range of styles, which his performance repertoire showcased. Isabella had to admit that Philippe Cuvier had done it again.

The musicians in the showcase were certainly not enough to form a full orchestra and musicians of the Opera House's normal orchestra were required to fill out the ensemble. Isabella quite liked the other two members of her section. To her great shock, she was playing the first flute part. Maurice Chardin was the playing the second flute part and Hans Kreisler played the piccolo. While the two men were much older than her, Isabella quite enjoyed their company and the humorous jokes they told.

The performance was to open with the orchestra playing the first movement of Bach's Brandenburg Concerto Number 2. It still amazed Isabella how Philippe managed to find orchestral pieces that were so fitting to the entire performance.

The first piece Ben would be playing was Sounds from the Hudson by Herbert Clarke. The orchestral accompaniment was beautiful and Isabella was surprised to learn that Philippe had not needed to arrange it. It was one of the rare pieces for the showcase that had actually been written for solo instrument and orchestra.

The rehearsal wrapped up an hour later after the sound technicians made sure that everything was set up correctly. And Isabella had been sure the rehearsal would have gone for another two hours if Monsieur Lachine, the conductor of the orchestra, had been allowed his way. As it was, it was only Philippe coming in and reminding the man that Benjamin needed to still have his lips for the performance that evening that allowed them to be allowed to go.

The members of the orchestra had left all of their instrument cases in the audience seating as was usual during a rehearsal. Isabella walked down the stairs of the stage into the audience area to find her case, words of greeting muttered to her by the other performers as she passed.

Finding her case, Isabella took out a cleaning cloth to clear the condensation from inside the instrument and to remove her fingerprints from its surface. So entranced with the process was she that she didn't see a figure standing over her.

"Is there anything you love more than that instrument?" a voice asked Isabella, startling her from her reverie.

Isabella looked up to see Philippe's dancing, light hazel eyes watching her, a smile crossing his face.

"I've yet to find it," she replied, smiling. "My flute is the source of my music and music is my happiness and my life."

Philippe grinned. "Well said," he replied, sitting in the seat next to her. "I must say, I quite agree."

Isabella looked at Philippe, realising that what he said was spoken in truth.

"Well," Philippe said, noticing his voice tremble slightly, "The reason I came over here was to ask you if you had any plans for dinner tonight."

The quiver in Philippe's voice went unnoticed for Isabella, however the butterflies in her stomach were a very unwanted intrusion. "Uh, no I don't," she replied nervously, hardly daring to believe what her mind was telling her.

"Well, would you like to come to a late supper after the performance this evening?" Philippe asked, wringing his hands in his lap.

Isabella smiled, realising that Philippe was just as nervous as she was. "I'd love to," she replied, the butterflies in her stomach starting to dance in excitement.

Philippe stood up, looking down at Isabella. "Well then," he said, "I'll meet you in the Opera foyer twenty minutes after the performance finishes."

Isabella nodded her approval and Philippe left, looking back at her with a smile on his face before he exited the hall.

-♥-

THE FIRST CONCERT in the showcase was a raging success. Isabella rushed to her dormitory, pushing her way through the crowd of people waiting to congratulate Benjamin as he, also, tried to make it backstage.

Isabella closed the door to her dormitory with a sigh, still holding her flute. She cleaned it and put it away and then dressed into the clothes she had laid out earlier, knowing that she wouldn't have time to choose them after the performance. With a quick check that her hair was presentable, Isabella moved out of the dormitory into the throng of people.

"Isabella, are you joining the party?" Amalie Guise asked Isabella as she tried to push her way through the multitude. The two girls had become quite good friends over the two months that Isabella had been at the Opera.

"Not tonight, Amalie," Isabella replied. "I have a previous engagement."

Amalie smiled, laughter showing on her face as she got swept up in the celebrations. "Have fun then!" she said, laughing as she was pulled away by one of the other performers.

Isabella made her way to the foyer, hampered by the amounts of people in the corridors. When she finally made it there, she found that Philippe was already in the entrance hall waiting.

Philippe saw her, happiness showing on his face. "Isabella!" he said, coming over to her. He gave her a quick hug and then offered her his arm. "Shall we?" he asked.

Isabella smiled and linked her arm with his. As they walked out the magnificent double doors, Isabella asked, "Where are we going, Philippe?"

Philippe smiled. "It's a surprise," he said cryptically.

They weren't walking for very long. They walked through the Place de l'Opera and turned onto the Boulevard Des Capucines. A little way down the long street, Philippe stopped, turning towards a beautiful little restaurant with the name Chez Clément on the façade.

"Here we are," he told Isabella, leading her inside the building.

The inside was beautiful and Isabella spent a few minutes admiring the beautiful lace curtains and the paintings on the wall that made the restaurant look as though they were back in time. It was not long before the waiter was leading them to their table.

"Here you are, Mademoiselle, Monsieur," the waiter said, giving them both a menu. "Would you like something to drink?"

Philippe nodded and after a quick conference with Isabella, ordered a carafe of chardonnay. The waiter left and Isabella looked at her menu.

One look at the menu made Isabella gasp with pleasure. "English!" she said, delighted, as she looked at the dual language menu.

Philippe laughed. "I thought you'd like that," he said, smiling. "The Chez Clément is always good for tourists."

It was not long before the waiter came back with their drinks and to take their orders. After he had left once again, Philippe said, "Tell me about your family. I seem to know so little about you."

Isabella laughed. "And I, you," she replied, smiling mischievously. At Philippe's smile, she started.

"Well," she said, "I was born in England, the second child of Olivier and Melissa de Chagny. I have an older brother, Claude, who is four years older than me. My father is a Vicomte, which isn't as exciting now as it would have been a hundred years ago. Nowadays, it's just a title, like Sir or Lady. It doesn't come with any land or special privileges unlike it would have done."

Philippe nodded, understanding her meaning.

Isabella continued. "My grandfather moved to England to escape France after the devastation that was the Second World War. He met my grandmother there and the de Chagny's have lived in England ever since."

"Does music run in the family, or are you a one-off?" Philippe asked, voicing a question he had had for some time.

Isabella grinned. "It runs in the family," she said. "My father is not musical, which is actually unusual for my family. My grandfather played the trumpet, he was quite good too. He was mostly interested in jazz and he went to New Orleans a few times before he married my grandmother. His father, my great-grandfather, played piano, only for fun though, he was never good enough to play professional. My great-great-grandfather played violin."

Philippe looked at Isabella. "It seems like your family was very musical," he said, amused. "Do you know of any musicians any further back in the line?"

Isabella smiled and nodded. "My great-great-great-grandmother is probably the only de Chagny who was slightly famous for her music. Before she married my great-great-great-grandfather, she sung at the Opera House where we now both work. Her career was short though – it was improper in those days for a lady of title to work and especially to sing professionally."

Philippe realised he might be getting somewhere. "Do you know her name?" he asked. "I may have heard of her."

Isabella nodded once again. "Her name was Christine de Chagny," she said, "But before she married, it was Christine Daae."

Philippe pretended to be thinking for a few minutes while his mind raced. So, Isabella was related to Christine de Chagny. Philippe continued to think for a few seconds until he was interrupted.

"Have you heard of her?" Isabella asked, interested.

"N-no," Philippe replied, slightly stammering. "I can't think of any singer with that name."

Isabella nodded in understanding. "Yes, I have never heard much about her career, even though she is an ancestor of mine." Isabella smiled and looked at Philippe. "Tell me about your family now."

The arrival of their food saved Philippe from speaking, which he was grateful for. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to inform Isabella about the ties between their two families. Now was not the time.

They ate in silence for a while, savouring the beautiful meal. After they finished, they talked for the rest of the evening. Isabella seemed to have forgotten that Philippe had not told her about his family and luckily for him, the subject was not brought up again.

It was one o'clock in the morning when Isabella and Philippe finally returned to the Opera Garnier. The celebration party seemed to be slowly wrapping up.

Philippe took Isabella's hands and kissed her chastely on the cheek. "I had a good time this evening," he whispered.

Isabella smiled. "Me too," she replied.

Philippe hugged her and as he went to move to the wing where his dormitory was, he added, "We need to do this again sometime."

Isabella laughed. "That we do," she replied.

With a final look at Philippe, she moved up the stairs to her dormitory, knowing that she needed a good nights sleep to be ready for rehearsals the next day.

Author's note:

Yay, another chapter uploaded! I won't say much, but I hope you enjoyed it! Oh, Benjamin is named after my trumpet playing friend, Ben, who is currently playing Sounds from the Hudson. And, yes, Concerto in G Major by Mozart is as difficult as I say it is! Anyway, it's starting to move along now.

Finally, before I go, thank you all soooo much for all the reviews. I love them, keep them coming!

Caitlin.

PS Yes, I understand that the Garnier is now unused when it comes to opera (which moved to the Bastille) and it is only really used for ballet now, but for the purpose of this story, I'm going to pretend that there are still operas performed there.