Disclaimer: Alas, Erik is not mine, nor is the Opera Populaire, Romeo et Juliette, or Les Troyens. I get Danielle, though, so neener-neener-neener! (sticks out tongue)
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my new reviewer, agibail009, and to Twinkle22.
Chapter Four: Man and Mystery
Danielle
Danielle began to feel rather strange in her music room. In fact, she felt strange no matter where she was in the Opera House. She felt like she was being watched, but had no idea by whom, or why. Sometimes Danielle would look up from her music, stare absentmindedly at her own reflection in the mirror, trying to think of the next word or note to use, and feel as if something, or someone, were staring back. In the corridors, she could almost swear she heard the swish of fabric, but when she turned around there was no one there. This feeling was quite unnerving.
Danielle had also begun to have disturbing dreams at night. She could hear her name being whispered while she slept. There was a recurring dream where she would find herself in am unfamiliar corridor lit by long, thin, white taper candles. She would hear her name and run as fast as she could in the direction that the whisper was coming from. She desperately needed to find the person calling her name. She would open every door she came across and look inside to find them empty, her name echoing in her head all the while. She would wake up from those dreams drenched in sweat, her hand reaching for the handle of the next door.
But today Danielle's thoughts were elsewhere; in the auditorium, to be exact. That afternoon the casting director was going to hold auditions for the principle parts in Romeo et Juliette by Berlioz. The most obvious motive for her continuing determination to earn a leading part was to pacify her father, but she also really wanted to play Juliette. Juliette's songs were hauntingly beautiful, and the story was one of the most romantic tragedies in history. Besides, Danielle had always wanted to have a death scene; she had a slightly melodramatic bent. For her audition piece, Danielle had settled on Cassandre's first aria in Les Troyens, also by Berlioz, hoping to capture the tragedy and desperation of Juliette through another medium, while demonstrating that she was familiar with the composer's style.
Danielle hurried to her music room after a very quick lunch, intending to get in another hour of rehearsal. The music room was rather grey and dusty, though the walls had been painted pink at one time. She imagined that the years of neglect had changed it considerably.
Danielle wasn't sure why it had been empty for so long. She had heard something about an Opera Ghost, but she didn't quite understand. News had reached her school about some disaster dealing with a ghost three years before, but Danielle had paid little heed to the rumors. She regretted it now because the performers who had been there at the time refused to say anything about it. Her music room was in the original part of the building, the part that hadn't been gutted by the fire involved in the "affair," and it really was quite intriguing now that she was in his supposed domain.
When Danielle opened the door, the first thing that caught her eye was a bright white spot at the back, just above the piano. The white was in sharp contrast with the dreary room. As soon as her eyes adjusted to this strange phenomenon, she realized what it was: a bouquet of roses in a crystal vase. She cautiously made her way over to the flowers, staring at them, holding her breath for no apparent reason. There was a letter beside the flowers. The intriguing envelope was outlined in black ink and it was addressed to "Mademoiselle Danielle D'Artoi." The letter wasn't sealed.
Danielle lifted the flap and took out the letter with trembling hands. It read as follows:
"May Heaven and fortune smile on you this day, my dear Danielle. You have a talent unrivaled by any other member of the Opera, and certainly not by the sopranos that usually grace, or should I say curse, the noble stage of the Opera Populaire. You alone deserve the part of Juliette. Nothing would give me greater joy than to see you triumph in such a glorious role."
There was no signature.
This was a rather disturbing development. Now Danielle knew she wasn't simply paranoid. Someone really was watching her. Whoever brought her these flowers knew that she would find them in this abandoned room (which she had believed nobody knew she used), and when she would be there. Furthermore, he or she knew what part she was auditioning for. Her stomach clenched when she reread the letter for the third time. Was the reference to the "noble" stage a coincidence, or had he or she witnessed the incident with the other chorus-girls?
Danielle had a sneaking suspicion that her "admirer" was a he. But he whom? She couldn't think of anyone who would give her such an expensive gift, or someone so eloquent. And why didn't he take credit for the gift and flattery?
Danielle finally looked up from the puzzling letter, her face pale, her mouth agape. Her eyes landed on the mirror. Once again she got the sensation that someone was staring back at her. She tore her eyes from the mirror, bent down slightly and smelled the roses. If she was going to be scared out of her wits by some stalker, at least she could enjoy the flowers he left her.
The scent of roses was Danielle's favorite. She even used perfume with rose overtones. She lifted her head, smiling a little, though still puzzled. She sat down and started her warm-up exercises.
Erik
Erik watched Danielle read the note he had left her moments before. Her jaw dropped and her already porcelain hue lightened noticeably. He wondered what she'd heard about strange notes being left in the Opera House. He had hoped to soften the blow by not sealing it with his usual wax skull. After all, he wanted to get the girl's attention, not scare her away.
Erik saw all of the thoughts running through her head as if her mind were a book, opened for his perusal. Her astonished gaze traveled to the mirror behind which he stood. Danielle's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch.
To Erik's intense relief, she smelled the roses. He tried to disregard the accelerated speed of his heartbeat when she looked up again, smiling a smile that seemed more enigmatic than that of Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa. Apparently the pleasure overrode her initial reaction of alarm. This was good, very good. He would have to bank on pleasure taking precedence over prudence (A/N: Say that five times fast!) if he was to continue this plan.
Erik told himself quite firmly that the roses had merely been a test and that they had nothing to do with the alleged feelings Marie had spoken of. He certainly didn't intend to cause the girl happiness, but if it made her happy, so be it. The invisible vice squeezed his chest a little tighter as Danielle unconsciously tucked a lock of her gently curling hair behind her ear before she started to sing her aria. Erik leaned against the wall of the passage and listened to her, yielding to euphoria.
Danielle
"Danielle D'Artoi," called the casting director, rolling his eyes, as if wondering why she even bothered. Danielle took the stage and handed her audition piece to the pianist. She attempted a calming breath and nodded to the accompanist to signify that she was ready to begin her fatalistic song about the fall of Troy.
Danielle's powerful voice soared through the auditorium. She looked all over the enormous room, imagining that she was seeing the burning ruins of the ancient city. She willed herself to believe that she was looking at her beloved home, razed by cruel conquerors. Danielle gazed into the boxes on the grand tier, as though she were imploring for mercy from the very heavens. Her eyes rested on box five to her left. She was amazed to find a man seated at the front of the box on the far right with the right side of his face obscured in shadow. Her eyes met his as she sang:
"No dreams of tenderness."
Danielle's voice gained more desperate force and chills that had nothing to do with the joy of singing shot up her spine. She turned away and finished her song to a smattering of polite, but jealous, applause from her fellow singers, the men slightly more appreciative than the ladies. As she made her way off the stage, shaking a little, she peered furtively into box five. It was completely empty.
Erik
She had seen him! Leaving her flowers and a note had been risky, but practical. Going to her audition had been totally reckless. The time hadn't been right for her to see him, but Erik couldn't deny that it gave him immense satisfaction that her voice had improved noticeably by simply looking at him. This only heightened his hopes for good results from his tutelage.
He had also learned something very important from that audition. Erik had seen the exhilaration she felt when singing before an audience. So, underneath her cool exterior was a burning passion waiting to be released. He and Danielle had more in common than he had originally thought.
Perhaps he could work this accident to his advantage. He knew that Danielle was to accompany her brother to a masquerade the following night. Well, Erik had always liked those. He'd fit in perfectly.
