EDIT: Few edits, word changes, etc. Nothing big. New A/N below the chapter.
"I do NOT understand these people!" Henrietta, or simply Ettie, was Valérie's long-time friend and self-proclaimed adoptive sister. This blond-haired associate was of course, not much older than the soprano, and had served as more of a friendly antithesis rather than a caring sibling, though who's to say how siblings should act? She had recently heard of her friend's triumph at the Garnier and was more than excited to visit after months of staying indoors due to pregnancy.
"Settle down, Ettie," Valérie replied, as she glanced at the nearby perambulator. "You'll wake up your child."
Ettie exhaled audibly, and began to complain less aggressively: "How you're able to stay so calm while your name is being slandered is beyond me."
The production ended with great acclaim both to the opera house and to the actors. One could blame it on the leads' talents, the youthful ballerinas and their risqué costumes, or everything combined. Regardless, there was still an extremely vocal minority that chooses to bring up the forgotten and put a new spin on it, all to shed a negative light on one certain singer.
"Look at this," Ettie raised each of the newspaper articles that featured the soprano. "'Prima Donna Caught Intimate with Doctor', 'Haughty Singer After Opening Night Success', 'Second Chance for Failed Singer'."
"They are surprisingly tame this time," Valérie sipped her tea. And indeed, they were. Back then, week after week, she was included in the headlines with new men for each. And with each article, she also had threatened to take to court, but how would a recently debuted singer pay for all those proceedings? By the time she had married Henry, her reputation was so damaged she no longer felt it necessary to spend what could be thousands of francs just to salvage what little remains of said reputation, even if she had the money to do so.
"Also, I used to have the notion that you hated Doctor Martin, has that changed?"
"Hate is an extreme word, mon amie. I find him annoying at most times, assertive as he is. He's attractive BUT I simply returned his gift. And of course, young men as they are, he stole a kiss from my cheek, is all," Valérie sighed. "So, what was it you came here for anyway?"
"Apart from visiting my long-time friend? Well, I heard a rumor."
For the time that the blonde must have spent en route from her home in Rouen to Valérie's apartment in Paris, certainly, there must be a better reason than a "rumor," thought the soprano. "Darling, we've gone through this. You have to be more specific than that."
"Your retirement."
There was a brief silence in the room.
"Ah, that. It's still a work in progress, I haven't retired," pointed a nervous Valérie to the ceiling. She was caught off guard. "The streets of Paris have been quite tedious for me. There are still months left for the opera season, and I am thinking I should have a change of scenery after so. But I'm having the hardest time deciding where to stay next."
Over the years, the soprano has developed a disinterest in her current town. Perhaps it was her inability to catch up to the ever-so-changing trends in fashion, being too old to enjoy social gatherings but too young to stop attending such, the stalking doctor, the extortionist at her workplace who threaten at her every move, it could be any. Regardless, All she knew was that she needed change.
"For once, I agree. Well, do you have anything in mind?" Ettie asked as she sipped on her now-lukewarm tea.
"Somewhere close, but not too close, and especially not as far as my vacation house in Bordeaux. Maybe somewhere near Rouen or Reims. I have to ask though, how did you know about it? Please tell me you've stopped dealing with that 'private detective' friend of yours."
"I'm simply acquainted with the listing agent you consulted. But that's beside the point. Has he mentioned this wonderful property in Les Andelys? It's by the river, beautiful, quiet, and peaceful. I think it suits you. There's even this magnificent rosarium open for the public, sadly though it's hardly ever visited."
"A rose garden, huh…" Valérie pondered for a moment. Being in Les Andelys means she'd be closer to Henrietta, and her newly born son, which the soprano found adorable. She glanced at the peacefully sleeping newborn and with a smile, she answered:
"I guess I shall have a look."
7 days later
"This is quite a view isn't it, Monet?"
"Indeed, madame," answered the butler. "It appears Madame Henrietta did know exactly what you were looking for. The moment you saw the estate, you immediately asked the agent for the papers."
Valérie simply laughed at the older man's words. As much as she hates to admit it, Henrietta knows her even better than she knows herself. It sometimes had been a problem when she would try to be the same to the blonde, only to be completely mistaken each time. Valérie, though good-willed, had admitted weakness to observation.
"I'm going to have look around the area. There was this garden she so eagerly wanted me to see."
"Shall I come with you, madame?"
"No, I'm quite fine by myself," she replied. "There are still some hours left before nightfall. Just assist the movers for me, will you?"
Monet nodded: "As you wish, madame."
Valérie smiled.
Monet has been much of a father figure for Valérie despite only being with her since her marriage to Henry. He had helped her get used to the customs of the upper class, and more. Valérie had expected him to leave after his true master's death, he was a servant to the Dubois family, and not to the wife after all. It was a shock to her when all but Monet left. And now that the man's age was becoming apparent by each day, Valérie tries with her best to lessen his workload, which included keeping a watchful eye on her.
It was afternoon, and the sun was now descending. Valérie strolled around her to-be new home village. Much to her surprise, there were even fewer people than she had anticipated. She soon spotted a village man that was not too far from her and asked for directions.
"Just straight ahead? I see. Thank you, monsieur," she bowed to a villager.
Five more minutes of walking and finally she saw what looks like the entrance to the garden. From the outside, it did not look of considerable size and looked narrow even, but once she stepped foot at the premises, there she understood that the narrow area was simply part of the entrance. A hallway, but of leaves and flowers. As Valérie approached the center of the rose garden, she heard a faint sound of what could only be violin playing. But what piqued her interest more was the familiarity of the piece.
"It's from Hannibal," she said to herself. "Why would anyone play a piece from Hannibal? Why not from one of Mozart's? Verdi?" Not that it was her business to dictate what one should or should not play, but Hannibal had always been an unpopular choice.
From afar, she spotted a dark figure in a gothic white gazebo that was placed in the center of a set of red rose bushes. Valérie neared the source of the sound, It was a man clad in a black cape playing the violin with, at least from her vantage point, an eye closed. From the side, she thought the man to be absolutely dashing, a bit slender, but dashing nonetheless. She noted of his playing which she acknowledged to be in the most graceful manner, from the movement of his hands to how he stood. She lifted her skirt slightly and tiptoed on the garden bricks as quietly as she could, all with respect to the man's focus on the instrument. And as she suspected, the piece was not only from Hannibal, it was also a transitional piece that connects to Elissa's last aria, and there was no doubt that he was going to play said aria soon after.
A thought passed through the soprano's mind. What if she sang for the masked man in the gazebo? She had been asked to perform this specific song even outside the premises of the opera house too many times now that even the thought of the song made her wince at some point, but something was refreshing about singing at the spur-of-the-moment, and for a stranger she thought to be attractive.
And sing, she did.
Elissa's last aria was a song that was always underestimated by singers. On paper, it seemed straightforward, but achieving the right tone is no easy feat that many singers, like La Carlotta and herself, have trouble executing perfectly. Despite the song being created for a lyric soprano, the song demands multiple changes of tone as Elissa goes back and forth between mourning and hopefulness, and then ending in a mixture of the two emotions as she comes to terms with her experiences and whatever the future holds for her. As for Valérie's unpremeditated "performance," she thought it good enough, but with the lack of her usual fifteen long minutes of preparations, it was certainly of much lower quality. She only hoped the mysterious figure would not mind.
As she reached one of the higher notes in the song, the music stopped abruptly as the man looked in her direction with a furrowed brow. Yes, one furrowed brow. Much to Valérie's dismay, the man had half of his face covered with a slightly off-white porcelain mask that vaguely matched the exposed side's features.
"How rude," Valérie pouted. "I was enjoying myself."
A/N: I have to clarify that although I used the name(s) of the fictional opera(s) in the ALW version, it doesn't mean that the songs would be the same. For example, the Elissa aria mentioned in this chapter is not necessarily "Think of Me," but the reader has the freedom to imagine it to be Think of Me or a song that fits the description!
Chapter 7 should be out by the time you read this. Happy reading!