A/N: So sorry for the delay in updates. I've been infected with Writers Block Bug once again. Ugh.

Big thanks to: tactics, arieschica56, Blue Eyes at Night, Aki T, Senna Wales, the copper araibian, Menacer Phan, Mystery Guest, Cloud In Crimson, Ritoru Kani, babymene17, annecordelia geckogirl for your lovely reviews. I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

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For two full days I had the dormitory room to myself. Rehearsals for Tristan and Isolde would not start until after everyone returned from holiday, but M. Deniaud gave me a copy of the script so I could begin practising my part. I met a few of the dancers and some of the stagehands. Everyone seemed friendly enough.

There was a meeting/rehearsal scheduled for Friday, after everyone was due back. Thursday night I was sitting on my bed reading Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice when the dormitory door flew open and several giggling girls came in, chattering excitedly.

I sat up, heart pounding.

"Oh, look, the new girl is here!" one of them exclaimed, and they all stopped to stare at me.

I stood up, giving them a shaky smile. "H-hello," I said. "I am Elizabeth de Nuit."

"Oh, hello Elizabeth! I am Astrid Levesque, your new room-mate!" said a tiny girl who looked about my age. She had black hair and grey eyes and as she walked over to me, I could tell by her stance and the way she walked that she was a ballet dancer.

"It is nice to meet you," I said awkwardly.

Astrid smiled broadly. "It is nice to meet you! Therese, come meet Elizabeth!"

A tall girl with long, curly blonde hair walked up. She looked down her nose at me and raised an eyebrow. "So," she said icily, "You are the new ingénue."

I forced myself not to cringe under the haughty look she was giving me.

Therese was quite pretty, or would have been if not for the sneer on her face and the iciness in her pale blue eyes. I remembered M. D'Aubigne telling us that Therese was the daughter of the ballet mistress. I certainly hoped she was nicer than her daughter.

"I asked you a question," Therese said sharply. "You are the new ingénue, are you not? You are the 'protégé' that M. Deniaud and M. D'Aubigne told us about."

I flushed, embarrassed to think that Messer's Deniaud and D'Aubigne had spoken so highly of me to the other girls.

"I-I do not know," I said.

"You do not know?" Therese repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You are smart, too, no? M. D'Aubigne told us all about you. You are a country girl with magnificent talent. He told us how you had never even been formally trained, your only training came from your parents." Her words were innocent enough but there was a bitter undercurrent to her words.

I gritted my teeth. I did not want to start a fight, so I merely smiled. "That is correct."

Astrid, looking uncomfortable, pushed her way in front of the taller girl. She gave an awkward laugh. "Welcome to the Paris Opera House, Elizabeth. You will love it here!"

I smiled weakly at Astrid and watched Therese flounce away, the four other girls following closely behind.

If this was any indication, it seemed that things would not be very different here than they had been at school.

Astrid stayed to talk to me after Therese and the other girls had gone. She told me the names of the other girls, who were all in the chorus with her and Therese. There was Ethel Shultz, Nicolette Severin and Natasha Ivanov. Therese had lived at the Opera House since she was a small child and though she had only started performing the previous year, she had practiced with the professional dancers for years. She had become the leader of the group of girls, though she was a few years younger than most of them.

"Do not let her worry you, Elizabeth," Astrid said. "She is not a bad person."

I nodded, though somewhat dubiously. She had not seemed very nice, but I would give her the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, Astrid seemed quite nice, so perhaps it would not be as bad as I had first feared.

xxx

The next day I walked the along the empty corridor, alone, on my way to the meeting/rehearsal where our parts were to be assigned. So far Astrid was the only one who would talk to me. The other girls seemed too afraid of Therese to chance talking to me. I sighed heavily as I walked on stage.

It seemed everyone was there. I saw a few of the dancers I had met, all of the girls were there. I caught a glimpse of M. Deniaud talking to a slender woman with blonde hair, streaked with grey. She wore a plain, dark coloured dress and her blonde hair was pulled back in a dancer's knot. I assumed that was Madame Marchand, Therese's mother.

I stood at the edge of the group, studying the many different faces. M. Deniaud walked past a moment later and stopped to say good day.

"Good day," I replied, smiling.

"I was just talking to Madame Marchand about you. She is most interested in meeting you after the meeting," M. Deniaud said, nodding toward the woman he had just been talking to, who was now standing with Therese and Astrid.

Just then M. D'Aubigne walked in with a petite, dark haired young woman dressed in an exquisite blue satin dress. She was smiling up at a tall, well dressed man. M. Deniaud excused himself to greet them.

That was Maria Guidicelli, I recognized her from the daguerreotype in the dressing room. She was far more beautiful in person, however. Her dark hair was thick, styled in an elegant upsweep and her dark eyes sparkled merrily.

M. D'Aubigne went to stand at a small podium and the crowd quieted as he cleared his throat.

"Welcome back!" he said cheerfully. "I am looking forward to our new season, and our first production, Tristan and Isolde."

He went on to assign parts. Of course, the lead, Isolde, was given to Maria Guidicelli. Everyone clapped politely and she smiled, her cheeks flushed. The male lead went to Colin Farnsworth, a tall blonde haired man who simply nodded seriously.

He read several other roles before he paused. "And the part of Lady Brangane will go to Mademoiselle Elizabeth de Nuit, who has just joined our company this season."

Immediately a murmur swept through the crowd as everyone looked about, trying to figure out who I was.

"Elizabeth, please, come forward."

I tried not to look nervous as I walked to the podium. I turned around and faced the crowd, who were looking at me with open curiosity. I caught a glimpse of Therese Marchand, standing next to her mother. Therese looked furious, her face red as she scowled at either me or M. D'Aubigne, or both of us.

Madame Marchand, however, was staring at me, wide-eyed. She had an expression of utter disbelief in her eyes. No doubt she had expected her daughter to get the part. I had not even sung a note and I already had several people angry with me, I thought miserably.

I had a sudden urge to run from the stage. I was humiliated and suddenly terrified of the faces staring at me. I had not wanted to cause problems, but here I was, making enemies before I had even had a chance to prove myself.

My heart was thumping painfully in my chest and I felt tears stinging behind my eyes. The urge to run was strong, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. Papa would not want to see me run offstage as if I were ashamed. I had nothing to be ashamed of.

I lifted my chin, forcing myself to convey a confidence that I did not feel. M. D'Aubigne went on to tell everyone that I came from a talented musical family; that my mother had once performed on this very stage at the Paris Opera. He then excused me, and I walked slowly back to the edge of the crowd, smiling at the few people that greeted me, and trying not to look at Therese, who was no doubt fuming.

I remember little of the remainder of the meeting. M. D'Aubigne assigned the remaining parts, talked about this being the best season ever, and then he dismissed the crowd for rehearsals.

M. Deniaud walked over to me. "Elizabeth, I would like to introduce you to Madame Marchand."

I obediently followed him to where Therese stood with her mother. Therese was talking in low tones when we approached and I overheard part of what she was saying.

"How could they give her that part? She has never even sung! I cannot believe it, Mere. I was certain I would get the part."

M. Deniaud cleared his throat and Therese and her mother both whirled around, Therese glaring daggers at me, her mother looking nervous and upset.

M. Deniaud introduced me to Madame Marchand, who gave me a tentative nod. "It is good to meet you at last, Elizabeth. I have heard much of you from Messer's Deniaud and D'Aubigne."

"It is good to meet you, as well," I said, feeling quite awkward.

Therese gave me one last withering look, then turned and flounced away, no doubt to find the rest of her little friends.

"I am sorry, please excuse Therese. She can be…difficult," Madame Marchand said with a sigh as her daughter walked off.

There was an awkward silence, then Madame Marchand smiled at me. "Monsieur D'Aubigne said your mother once sang at the Opera House. I was in the corps de ballet for many years, perhaps I knew her. What is her name?"

The question was asked innocently enough, but there was a calculating look in Madame Marchand's pale blue eyes, as if she knew something.

"Her name is Christine," I replied. "Christine de Nuit."

Madame Marchand's eyes widened slightly. "That is her married name, no?"

I nodded.

"What was her name, before she married?"

"Daae," I replied, watching Madame Marchand's expression carefully. "Christine Daae."

Though she tried to cover it, I saw the surprise in her eyes as her face paled slightly. She smiled, as if nothing were wrong, and began speaking to M Deniaud about rehearsals.

The change in subject did not escape my notice. In fact, it only served to reinforce my suspicions that there was something being hidden from me.

It made me all the more determined to figure out what it was.

((well, what did you think? Please review and let me know! All reviews/comments/suggestions welcomed!))