"Love Comes To Those Who Wait"

By Nabira

CHAPTER 3

ISABELLA'S HANDS SHOOK with nerves as she listened to the orchestra play The Moldau from the backstage area. Her night had arrived and in less than two minutes time, she would be joining her fellow musicians on stage. She was still kicking herself over letting Philippe convince her to begin with Mozart's insanely difficult concerto. She had never performed something of that calibre in public before so it was very understandable that she was nervous.

The public's applause made Isabella's blood run cold and, hearing the announcement that she was to join the orchestra on stage, Isabella made her way to the front. If it was possible, what frightened her more about the showcase than playing in it was the fact that she had to do her own announcing.

With a slight nod to the conductor, the orchestra began to play, leaving Isabella to wait for the introduction to be completed before she began her performance.

Due to her nerves, the introduction seemed to go forever, though in truth it only went for a minute. Isabella was so nervous she could not even listen to the beauty of the orchestra as it played. As the introduction drew to a close, Isabella took a deep breath, her first notes beautiful and melodious.

As she played she sunk into the music, forgetting the sold out audience of over two thousand people. However, she was still nervous and it showed in her playing, her vibrato slightly too much for a piece of Mozart's era.

In the first break, Isabella took a deep breath to calm her anxiety. The next phrase was free of the uneasy vibrato and she congratulated herself silently. Very quickly after that, it seemed, Isabella was playing the cadenza, the orchestra silent behind her. The difficult runs finished with a trill and the orchestra entered for the final time, playing the closing phrases.

The audience erupted into applause and Isabella bowed, a grin on her face. Somehow, she had just played the hardest piece in her repertoire for the evening and the nine minutes that the piece had lasted for had just flown by.

She placed her flute on the flute stand and walked over to the microphone stand to the left of the stage. Picking up the microphone, she said, "Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the third performance in the Youth Showcase series." Isabella paused, a smile on her face. "My name is Isabella de Chagny and I am a flautist from England."

A scattering of polite applause followed and Isabella continued. "The piece I just played was called Concerto Number 1 in G Major and was written by Mozart." She moved toward the conductor and said, "I would like to introduce the conductor for this evening, Monsieur Édouard Jouvet and, of course, the Youth Orchestra, which is made up of other youths from the Showcase and is completed by musicians from the Opera House's orchestra." More applause followed and Isabella smiled, glad that she would soon be able to play again. "The next piece I am going to play for you today is called Arabesque by Debussy."

The beautiful strains of the opening reached her ears and Isabella lifted her flute to her mouth and began to play. Once again, she lost herself in the music, giving it her all. Every piece that followed was the same and it was not long before an hour had passed and interval was upon them.

Isabella was glad to get off the stage and into her dressing room to change her clothes. As she got into the room and closed the door, she collapsed onto the couch, wanting to stay there and not go back onto the stage. But after five minutes of just sitting and staring into space, Isabella knew she had to get changed. Interval only went for twenty minutes.

Ten minutes later, she was ready and waiting to go back on stage. Interestingly enough, she had not seen Philippe this evening. He had been around the backstage area on all of the concerts so far. Isabella felt a sharp pang in her stomach and hoped with a passion that he would not miss her finale.

The second half passed quickly enough with beautiful performances of Meditation de Thais by Massenet and another one of Debussy's pieces, Clair de Lune. Finally it was time for her finale and as Isabella moved to the microphone she saw a slight movement from the boxes above. Taking a deep breathe, she said to the audience, "I will be finishing with a piece written by another extraordinary youth musician. The composer has arranged all of the pieces that have been used in all fifteen showcases. So, I would like to present to you La Puissance de la Musique by Philippe Cuvier."

The piece Philippe had written had been composed especially for Isabella and she loved it immensely. The piece changed tempo and feeling many times and showed off the flute's flashy high register, but also showcased the beautiful, melodious low notes that the instrument was capable of.

Isabella put every ounce of feeling that she could muster into the piece and, as she bowed and the audience stood to give her a standing ovation, she couldn't help but think that Philippe would have to be awfully proud of her after that performance.

Ten minutes later, Isabella was wishing to be back onstage. At least then she could escape the congratulations of the people who were milling around backstage.

A sigh of relief reached her lips as she finally made it to her dormitory. The craziness of the world outside could not reach her in the calm solitude of the dressing room and she calmed considerably as she cleaned her flute and got changed into ordinary clothes.

The dormitories of the Opera were not like the original dormitories had been. They only housed one person and doubled as dressing rooms for the performers. Likewise, most of the dressing rooms had changed into dormitories, save for the few that were used for the performers that did not live at the Opera.

Unlike the last two after parties, Isabella would not be able to get out of this one. So, resignedly, she exited her dormitory, closing the door behind her. And straight away, she was swept up by more people wanting to congratulate her.

"Isabella, you were fantastic!" Amalie cried, pushing a glass of champagne into her hand as she embraced her tightly. The grin on Amalie's face was contagious and she added to her, "I have never heard you play so well! The music just filled you today!"

Isabella was not going to be able to just talk to Amalie, however. It was not long before Michaela Arthurs, a bassoon player, and Lorenzo Togliatti, an oboe player, removed her from Amalie's care and brought her over to talk to some of the other players from the showcase. However, the one person she really wanted to speak with was suspiciously absent.

-♥-

IT WAS TWO hours later when Isabella was finally able to return to her dormitory. The party was wrapping up much earlier as many of the showcase musicians were filling in for other musicians in the Opera's orchestra. Rehearsals for Saturday night's ballet started very early the next morning. Isabella, however, was not required for the performance of Romeo and Juliet and she was looking forward to a day of relaxing.

She entered the dormitory and was about to get changed into her nightdress when a knock at the door stopped her. Curiously, she opened the door and found the familiar face of Philippe looking back at her.

"Are you up to anything, Isabella?" he asked, cocking his head to one side in question.

Isabella shook her head.

"Good," Philippe replied, extending his hand for Isabella to take. She stepped forward and took his hand, closing the door behind her.

Isabella did not know where they were going, but Philippe obviously did. He led her along the corridors of the Garnier, pausing to check that there was no one watching them at each corner. With every passing moment, Isabella became more confused. She was being led into a section of the Opera House that she had never been into before.

Philippe gripped Isabella's hand tightly, suddenly, and she found herself standing in front of a door at the end of a corridor. With a quick look around, Philippe quickly opened the door and ushered Isabella in quickly.

They were standing in an old, unused dressing room. The walls were a pale pink and the room was empty, other than a large mirror on the far side of the room. "What are we doing here?" Isabella asked inquisitively.

"This room is thought to be haunted," Philippe said, cocking an eyebrow at Isabella's scepticism. "It hasn't been used since its occupant disappeared in 1880."

"Why are we here then?" Isabella asked, watching Philippe move toward the mirror.

Philippe smiled. "I'm going to show you why everyone thinks it's haunted," he replied, pushing on the mirror.

Isabella's eyes widened in shock as the mirror opened, revealing an old passageway. Philippe put his hand out for Isabella once again and she took it, following him into the dark.

It wasn't far down the lane when Isabella noticed that there was very little light. Philippe seemed to have noticed too, because he grabbed a lantern from a hidden holder on the wall and, scraping it along the ground, lit it in one swipe. Isabella's grip on Philippe's hand tightened with apprehension as they continued the walk down the cold, dank path.

Isabella understood the dampness as they came into a large opening in the tunnel. A humongous subterranean lake was apparent and something stirred in her subconscious as she looked at it. However, the whisper of a thought disappeared as Philippe led her towards a small boat, floating on the lake's surface.

Isabella didn't dare touch the water as they glided along, Philippe standing behind her as he steered. It looked toxic, the aqueous substance kissing the side of the boat, lulling her to take a dip in it. She looked away, not wanting to become hypnotised by its soft caress. She was relieved when they reached the other side and quickly jumped from the boat to be away from the water.

Philippe secured the boat and, taking her hand again, led her through a door into the house on the other side.

The hidden thought surfaced again and, slowly, Isabella managed to click two and two together. She knew exactly where she was as she looked around the underground lair. She was where her ancestor had been over a hundred years before. She was in the Phantom's lair.

Philippe watched the realisation dawning on Isabella's face and he suddenly understood that she did indeed know the story of the Phantom of the Opera.

"I've brought you here," Philippe said, looking at the old, moth bitten furnishings in the room, "To tell you about my family's history." Philippe sighed, as if weighing up what to say. "You asked me if I had heard of your ancestor, Christine Daae," he said, looking at Isabella directly. At her nod, he continued, "Well, I lied. I have heard of Christine Daae. She is what led me to the Opera."

Philippe could tell by the look on her face that Isabella was confused. With a sigh, Philippe said, "She was a very close acquaintance of my great-great-grandfather. And, as you can guess," he said, gesturing to the room around them, "He was the Phantom of the Opera."

Isabella did indeed understand. "Christine's Angel of Music," she said breathlessly. At Philippe's nod, she smiled. "His name was Erik, wasn't it?" she asked Philippe.

Philippe was shocked. "How did you know?" he asked.

Isabella smiled. "Christine spoke of her Angel of Music in her journal and, later, a man named Erik. I linked them together."

"It's ironic, isn't it, how we've met?" Philippe said, grinning.

Isabella laughed. "Yes," she said, looking at Philippe. "Wasn't Erik deformed?"

Philippe nodded. "Yes," he replied, a sad look on his face.

Isabella frowned. "Has the deformity appeared again in your family?" she asked. Seeing Philippe start, she said quickly, "I mean, you're not, but I was just wondering if anyone else had been."

Philippe looked at the ground. "My father had the same deformity," he said, looking up into Isabella's eyes. "It wasn't as bad as Erik's, from what I understand, the entire right-hand side of his face was deformed; Dad only had part of his forehead deformed." Philippe smiled and, with a laugh, added, "It just meant he wore his hair slightly longer."

Isabella smiled and hugged Philippe. "I'm glad to find about your family," she said, taking his hand once again. "It just makes everything that much more special."

Philippe put his arm around Isabella's shoulders and led her from the rundown lair and back into the real world above them.

Author's note:

Thanks for the reviews everyone! It's so exciting having my e-mail full of reviews the day after uploading a chapter.

Tomorrow is my last day of school for the term (only two and a half more weeks of school for the year, then exams!) so I hopefully should be able to update more. Obviously, I have heaps of revision though, so please don't expect stacks!

Other than that, I hope you like!

Cate.