Mr. Y sat in the fourth row of the theatre; looking at several automatons on the stage. They were in fancy ball gowns and tuxedos; Gustave's appearance in tan linen slacks and cream linen shirt with his waistcoat missing made him look more like the curiosity on display. It was only the sweat dampness around his neck and underarms that signaled he was the human being on the stage.
"Alright let's run it again!" Erik called from his seat. "It's a simple waltz, Gustave. If I would have known how long it would have taken you to learn it, I would have started you sooner, with an actual human."
The young man rolled his eyes before getting into place, as the pianist counted off. Gustave touched the back of one of the female automatons. She brought her head and hands up, joining Gustave in a few measures of a waltz before walking over to a male automaton and waking him up and joining him in a waltz. Gustave repeated the action three more times until there were a total of four sets of automatons dancing on the stage. Alone he stood there for a couple of measures until a single female automaton walked out and touched his hand. Smiling, Gustave led her in a waltz.
"End front and center! Front and center!" Erik yelled from the empty house.
Gustave bit his lip, counting in his head as he looked over his partner's shoulder making sure they were ready to land where they needed to be. The music stopped; as did all the automatons.
"Bravo!"
Gustave smiled as his father's voice boomed through the room.
"We did it!" The boy hugged his dance partner and then kissed her on the cheek.
"You did it Gustave, she's not real," Mr. Y walked up the aisle towards the stage.
"Neither was the one you made to look like mother, so apologize to Miss Sally Mayweather!"
Erik climbed up the ladder leaning up against the stage to get up on it, "If I wasn't running late for your mother's lesson I would make you run this again." He patted his son's head and smiled at him, "You did wonderful; not just the dancing but your work with me on the automatons and your upkeep of them through rehearsal. Keep it up all season, Young Mister."
As he made his way down the backstage corridors, Erik paused in front of his wife's dressing room when he heard another voice singing from behind it. Another glorious voice.
His wife's speaking voice cut it off, "Alright work on that just a bit more this week. You are so close, Violet."
"Perhaps you could sing it for me one last time, Christine?"
Violet Stein? One of the Oo-La-La Girls? He knocked on the door.
"Oh dear, we ran too late, I am so sorry, Christine."
The door opened and The Diva smiled at her husband.
"Am I interrupting something?" He walked in leaving the door open.
"Not at all, why?" Christine gave him a light kiss on the lips before walking back over to the upright piano that was now in her dressing room. "I was just finishing up Violet's lesson." She took that music off the stand and handed it to the light brown hair girl and smiled, "I will see you next week."
"Thank you. Good-bye, Mr. Y," she curtsied slightly at the man before leaving and closing the door behind herself.
"What was that? I didn't know you wanted to teach," Erik sat down on the piano bench.
"I don't, but I need an understudy and I am not subjecting the her to you," The Diva lifted new music off the lid of the piano and placed it on the stand for her husband.
"You don't need an understudy, Christine," The Phantom retorted as he cracked his knuckles.
"The same was said of Carlotta all those years ago."
"Even if you did need an understudy, did you really just go grab and Oo-La-La Girl?"
"Well you just grabbed a choir girl. Violet has a lovely voice. She could do so much more with some training. She is only working this because it is easy money and she's supporting her younger sister."
The Phantom ran some scales on the keys, "She's too young. She will not have the maturity, voice or otherwise, to handle your part."
"Erik, she's twenty-two; the same age I was when you came to me as The Angel of Music. If I could handle your demanding lessons and needs then, she can handle playing Persephone in your new opera." Christine walked over to the door and locked it, before returning to her husband's side. She stood tall beside the bench. "I have also hired her sister as my personal dresser here at the theatre. This way Anne can stay at the house and take on more maid duties. She will also assist the Oo-La-La Girls when I do not need her."
Erik opened his mouth but The Soprano cut him off, "She is only fourteen! She's the same age as Gustave! I would her rather be here with her sister helping around the theatre than trying to find work elsewhere in the city; possibly getting trapped in a factory for hours on in. I am already warmed up, so shall we just begin?"
"No." Erik started playing the melody from the aria, "I want to know when you were going to tell me about your understudy? Were you just going to keep training her and then one day lay up in bed ill during a performance and say 'Do no worry, Violet Stein will have it all covered.'" He pushed down on the keys with more force, the sound louder and harder.
"Erik!"
"Or were you hoping I would stumble upon one of your lessons so you would not have to approach me with the subject?"
"Erik, if you are going to do this, I will cancel today's lesson!"
"I just want to know when you were going to tell me? You pulled me into the light, Christine. I no longer like being left in the dark," The Phantom growled. His fingers sped up the tempo.
"And now that I am The Diva you created; I am allowed demands. And since that Diva is also the owner's wife, she will fill them all. What is he going to do? Dismiss the voice he spent ten years chasing?"
The Phantom slammed all his fingers down on the piano keys at once, creating a loud vibrating thud through the room. He closed his eyes and his shoulders rose and fell with several deep breaths, "Charlotte may look like me but she acts just like you! What a cruel God to give that sweet child the worst features of her parents!"
The Diva's eyes widen as her jaw dropped. She fidgeted with the lace of her sleeve before speaking, "I've only become what The Angel of Music taught me. Maybe Mr. Y should try teaching Violet and see what becomes of her." Christine stormed out of her dressing room.
Inside the nursery, Charlotte stood above the low table pouring "tea" from the pot of her toy tea set into her mother's tea cup.
"That is enough, thank you," Christine smiled up at her daughter from the floor.
"Are you sure? Mary likes a lot of tea," Charlotte motioned her head towards the doll in the little wooden chair right across from Christine.
"That is alright."
Charlotte walked over to the doll's place setting and poured into the cup. Once done, she poured into her cup, placed the pot down and sat in her spot. "Now we can drink."
Christine lifted her cup to lips and tilted it. "That is the most delightful tea I have ever had. You are the best tea party hostess, Charlotte."
"You hear that, Mary. You tell Nellie that. That's why she's not here."
Matilda cooed from Charlotte's crib and Charlotte turned to her, "You're too little, sister no tea for you!"
"Someday she will be big enough for one of your tea parties and you will invite Matilda, right?" Christine lifted one of the blocks acting as a tea biscuit off her plate.
"Am I too late for the party?" Mr. Y stood in the doorway.
"Yes, you are," Christine sat the block down on her plate.
"I thought Charlotte was the hostess."
"Mary drank all the tea, Dada," she looked up at her father. "And it's bedtime soon."
"Where's Gustave?"
"He said he was tired from rehearsal and retired early."
"Tired, sure," Erik scoffed.
"You know you run impossible lessons and rehearsals!" Christine stood up. "He's still a child."
"My rehearsal demands have nothing to do with why he's retired early. However, if he wants to perform for me…"
"I'm not having this conversation right now, Erik!" The Soprano turned her attention to the toddler. "Charlotte, get your night gown. We'll go to the water closet to clean up before bed."
The little girl trotted over the chair beside her crib and grabbed the little white garment. On her way to follow her mother, who had already left the room, she stopped in the doorway and wrapped her arms around her father, "Have you been bad, Dada?"
He reached his hand down and caressed her cheek, "My whole life. But tonight, I'm in trouble with Mama."