Paris, France, 1870
The magnificent theatre gleamed in the Parisian sun, the light glinting off the brilliant marble structure. The sun kissed the statues of Pegasus that adorned the roof, making it seem as though they strained against their bases in an attempt to take flight. A large queue of people lined the theatre, chatting and milling about as they waited to buy tickets.
Firmin stepped out of his carriage, never letting his eyes stray from the building before him. He settled his hat on his head as his business partner, Andre, alighted from the carriage after him. The former manager, Lefevre, strode toward them. They made their greetings and quickly entered the theatre.
The Opera Populaire teemed with life. Everywhere Firmin looked, people were plying their trades. Ballerinas warmed up at the bar, sculptors etched away on props, painters applied yet another coat onto pieces of scenery, and seamstresses stitched yards and yards fabric.
Yes, indeed. The Opera Populaire was the new social hotspot, and it showed. It was a pure stroke of luck that he and his business partner had stumbled upon a so-called gold mine and amassed a substantial amount of money.
In reality, the gold mine was a contract with a shipping company to dispatch their defunct ships, but Richard Firmin was not one to quibble, especially when awaiting a tour of his brand new opera house. By tonight, control of the entire establishment would belong to his partner and himself.
Of course, first they had to get through being introduced to the patron of their new boon, and he supposed he'd have to make a cameo appearance before the cast, but a few formalities were a small price to pay for all the social connections they'd soon be acquiring.
Before Firmin could accustom himself to anything within the theatre, Lefevre hustled himself and Andre off to a side exit where the new patron had arrived.
Raoul de Changy was a handsome man, with a strong jaw and an air of authority about him. He pulled his horses to a stop and dropped to the ground, entrusting his carriage to the stableman.
As the four men entered the auditorium, Firmin could hear piercing, screeching notes and winced. Such was his lot; to own an opera house, one had to listen to opera. He set his teeth and trudged after his comrades.