Disclaimer: POTO is mine only in my dreams. Danielle is mine in reality.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to DancingHorse and Twinkle 22. I love reviews (coughhintcough). Please let me know if you think the action is too slow, if you want more action, more fluff, less fluff…rabid bunnies. That sorta thing. This chapter is a bit short, I know, but quite important character-wise. Also, note the name change. Danielle Olivier is now Danielle D'Artoi. I was reading the Leroux book again, saw the name, had to use it.
Chapter Three: For Good or Ill
Madame Giry
Marie Giry shuffled into her small rooms at just after eight o'clock. She sank gratefully into the nearest chair, closing her eyes for a moment. She opened them to find a ghost standing before her.
"Good evening, Marie. I hope you are well," Erik said quietly, his voice as velvety as she had remembered it. Marie stared at him dumbly. "I see you did not expect to see me."
"No, I did not," she admitted, having finally recovered from the shock of finding him in the Opera again, and the relief of finding him alive. "I thought you'd never return."
"I was only gone a year. How is Meg," he asked abruptly. "I never got around to congratulating you on her good fortune. She married a baron, didn't she?"
"That is correct. She now has a little girl, Genevieve. Erik, why are you here," Marie ventured warily. "I know as well as you do that chatting about my family isn't your only reason for this quaint, little meeting."
Erik stated without preamble, "I need information."
"What kind of information," she asked uneasily. This didn't sound good.
Erik took a seat facing her and said in a slightly trembling voice, "I want you to tell me all you know of Danielle D'Artoi."
Her worst fears were confirmed, but she was still a little surprised at his interest in this particular girl. Marie had been insightful enough to assume that he would want information about a girl, but she would have thought that he would be asking after a different girl entirely. Specifically a certain blonde, Swedish former opera star.
"I refuse to help you. You should have learned your lesson three years ago", she scolded dryly.
"It isn't what you think," he rejoined, not quite meeting her eyes. "I have no feelings for the girl; I merely want to train her, to make her great."
"Erik, don't lie to me. And don't lie to yourself. You do have feelings for her. If you hadn't any, you would have been able to say her name with no emotion in your voice. I know you better than you think I do, Erik."
"I won't let any feelings I may, or may not, have get in my way. I won't be blinded by love again. She isn't Christine, Marie."
"Take my advice and leave her alone, if not for her sake, then for yours. You'll only get hurt again."
"For my sake? I'm desperate. I need something to do with my life, and now I find the most talented performer in the company, perhaps in France, is given pitiful roles in the chorus. Do you expect me to sit idly by and watch her be wasted? Do you think that my love for music, for beauty, died when I lost Christine? Besides, I would be doing her a favor; I would be doing the Opera Populaire a favor."
To put of the decision of either crushing Erik's hopes or helping him bring Danielle into his clutches, Marie said, "The managers and the casting director tend to only cast more experienced sopranos in the leads. They also hope to make one of their experienced singers into a prima donna that would attract faithful customers, though they haven't found a suitable replacement for Carlotta yet."
"It is inexcusable. Over night she would become a star that would far outshine the screeching hens that are always cast in the leads," Erik hissed vehemently.
Marie studied Erik for a moment, thinking. He did seem desperate. And she, being one of the few whom the chorus-girl in question trusted enough to confide in, knew for a fact that Danielle was frustrated that she had yet to earn a leading role. When put that way, Erik's request seemed quite reasonable, but something about the way he said Danielle's name scared her. He could deny it if he wanted to, but she could tell he felt very strongly for the girl. He may not even know it yet, she thought. This could be a terrible mistake, but she couldn't help pitying Erik. Maybe the Phantom deserved one last chance at love. Maybe Danielle, a soul almost as bereft of love as he was, could give him that chance.
"Erik," she began, hating herself, "do you give me your word that you won't cause any more accidents, that you won't hurt anyone who gets in your way, and that you'll let her go if she doesn't come to love you?"
"You have my word," he answered solemnly.
Erik wouldn't go back on his word; that she could trust. He still owed her far too much to consciously betray her. With a sigh, Marie began a narrative she hoped would do more good than ill.
"She was born eighteen years ago in Paris to a middle-class couple. She has one older brother named Luc, who spends most of his time, and money, enjoying life, if you understand me. Apparently her father prefers her brother, the male heir, if you will. The unfortunate part is that he takes no pains to hide his favoritism or his scorn for her."
"How does her mother treat her?"
Marie had enough time before she responded to note that Erik seemed unable to say her name again for fear of betraying himself. "Her mother is dead. I don't know how long she has been dead or how she died. Danielle has always been rather guarded about the subject, so I don't press her."
Erik made an anxious gesture that Marie interpreted to mean that he wanted her to continue.
"Danielle was sent to a boarding school in the country, where she took classes in history, literature, house-keeping, dancing and, of course, music. She excelled in all of her classes, but music was her greatest talent. She had a natural inclination toward it and became an accomplished musician. Upon leaving the boarding school, she convinced her father to allow her to audition for the Opera. That was a little over a year ago. She has auditioned for a lead in every production since because her father pressures her to make more money, but she has never attained as much as a solo part. She sleeps in her dressing room because she can't afford a flat, and she doesn't want to live with her family. She chose not to live in the dormitories because she values her privacy. She has no friends, but is a very charming girl who is very dedicated to her work, and to a family that does not love her. That is all I can tell you."
"One question," Erik commanded. "I am very curious to learn something with regards to her religious activities. Why does she sing and pray to God on the rooftop instead of in the chapel?"
"She is not allowed to enter the chapel," Marie answered grimly.
Immediately bristling at this apparent slight, Erik demanded to know why she was denied admittance.
"She is a Protestant."
"Really," he asked, with a raised eyebrow, slightly off put at the girl's originality. "A Protestant?"
"Yes. Of course, no one in the company besides the managers knows this. That's why she only goes late at night."
"Then she's afraid of the stigma?"
"She isn't, I assure you," Marie answered with a chuckle. "She could have easily hidden it from the managers, but she told them quite candidly when they hired her. The managers insisted that she keep quiet, though she would rather tell everyone and try to win converts to her religion. She wasn't afraid to tell her father that she converted, so she certainly doesn't fear the rest of the chorus girls or the ballerinas."
"But why does she sing in Latin instead of French?"
"She says that Protestants don't like to sing, pray, or attend services in a language they don't understand," Marie explained. "Danielle, however, knows enough Latin to understand what she sings. She enjoys singing in Latin because she thinks it pretty. Sometimes she does sing in French, sometimes she prefers her favorite Latin hymns."
"Thank you," Erik said, rising from his chair. "It isn't much to go on, but it will be useful. You won't regret assisting me." He was out the door and in the shadows before she could reply.
"I hope I won't," Marie Giry said wearily to thin air.
