I realize this is not faithful to Gaston Leroux's version, and that Christine did indeed play Margeurite – forgive me please! And for those who read the original version, I made an oops and called the character "Gretchen" after the play version of Faust, rather than the Opera.
Silvia knuckled her aching back, humming low in her throat to keep her voice warmed up. The director had been running her – and everyone else, for that matter – ragged. Etienne and Marie-Cecile passed her by, whispering; she smiled at the two ballet dancers. She was slowly coming to know everyone but by virtue of her shyness it was taking some time to find her niche.
Everyone had become so used to La Carlotta's vitriolic ways that they had for the most part walked on tiptoes around her for the first few days, never sure what type of temper she had. She had only recently managed to convince people that she wouldn't throw a fit or work herself into a snit over silly things. The opera's seamstress had been the worst – Silvia had caught Madame Pericot flinching a few times, as if she expected a slap because a ribbon had come loose or a bodice was too tight to fasten.
"Pardon, mademoiselle…if you'll just lift your right arm I'll attend to the tear in the skirts." Madame Pericot smiled kindly at her, her hands full of pins and thread. The director had given the company a half-hour break from rehearsals – begrudgingly. There were a scant four weeks before the opening of "Faust", and much to do in the meantime.
"You're much slimmer than Carlotta, my dear," the seamstress commented, her agile fingers deftly working the needle. "But fortunately for you, Christine Daae played Margeurite before you and you are of like size…this costume required very little alteration."
"She was in 'Faust'?" Silvia questioned, curious about the woman who had caused so much stir within the Opera and within society itself.
Madame Pericot shook her head. "Well, no – it was the opera they had planned to present before the Pha…before…ah. That is to say…they replaced it with 'Don Juan Triumphant' and she never played Margeurite on the stage."
Silvia slid her gaze to the seamstress, hearing the unspoken words but deciding it was unwise to question the woman about the cause of the opera's replacement when so many here still seemed so nervous.
But she did not have to venture a question, for Madame Pericot smiled at her sheepishly and continued: "I am being silly. As you undoubtedly know, the Phantom wrote 'Don Juan Triumphant' and would have it no other way but that it was performed with Christine in the lead. And sad I was too, for I put many hours into this gown and I was rather proud of it. There was little to be done about it, though, for who would gainsay the Phantom?"
Silvia merely nodded, having no answer for the rhetorical question. "The managers could not deny him?"
"Oh, heavens no – he has them quite wrapped 'round his finger, for reasons I am not aware of. I imagine he resorts to blackmail of some sort, or threatens to ruin their shows if they don't do as he says."
"You speak in present tense, Madame Pericot – does that mean he still exists, still lives beneath the Opera?" Silvia was unable to suppress a shiver at the thought.
"Oof, now I've gone and worried you – do not upset yourself over the Phantom, my dear. He does not concern himself with the Opera anymore, now that Christine is gone. In fact I daresay he has gone away to pine over his love."
The last was a lie, and Silvia knew it.
The Phantom still lived beneath the Opera House.