The clock in the living area pulls me from my deep sleep. It only sounds out 3 bongs before resuming its dormant state. I roll to my back, my head fuzzy and groggy. The room is softly lit by three candles; one on the nightstand, one by the door and the other on the vanity. I feel the warmth of another body next to mine as I roll to my other side. Belle is finally sleeping soundly, her hair a mess strewn across the pillow as she lay on her side as her shoulder softly rises and falls with her breathing. I softly slide my arms around her bare body, the thoughts of earlier this evening making me smile all the more. I lift her head just enough to slide my arm underneath it and cradle her head on my bicep and chest. Almost on command her arms wrap around my forearm and bring it to her chest like a child cuddling their favorite toy, a soft and faint smile gracing her sleeping face before returning to its natural state. I place a soft kiss on her shoulder before curling around her and letting her breathing lull me back to sleep. The next time I wake it's to a pair of soft lips pressing to my cheek.
"Good morning mon amour…" her voice purrs like a happy cat in the warm sun. I feel her hand run through my hair as I stretch out my back, happily popping.
"Good morning mon ange." I pull her in for a lazy morning kiss. "You seemed to have slept well." I brush a stray strand away and hook it behind her ear. She nods her head and curls into my chest, a devious grin on her lips.
"After last night I would be surprised if you didn't get any sleep…" She softly begins to kiss my neck, her hands wandering about freely.
"Not now mon amoureaux…" I try to protest, but the touch of a woman is something that I cannot seem to resist; and I think Belle has figured this out. "The opera…" but her lips silence my protesting. We spend the morning in bed, neither one of us wanting to leave the bliss filled aura we've created. But as luck would have it, the clock woke from his hourly hibernation to remind us of the time, 9 bongs fill the air before the old clock retreats to the silence.
"Curse that infernal clock… telling everyone and everything what to do and were to be…" I brush back her hair as Belle now lays on my chest.
"I must admit I was rather enjoying the view…" my lips curl as I pull her into my kiss. "But sadly we must adjourn back to the surface." She sighs then slides off of me to the mirror while I head to the chamber pot. I help her into the lavender dress while she puts my mask on my face. I look into the mirror and laugh at the two of us; next to me she looks more like a child than a woman. Her head hardly reaches the bottom of my collarbone. I take her by the hand and lead her above, the leather score heavy in my hands.
"What if Christine makes you change the ending…?" We arrive at the manager's door. I put a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Don't you worry mon ange." I push the door to, and see that we are already late to the party.
"Monsieur and mademoiselle, glad you could join us. I trust you have our new opera ready?" Leroux was practically giddy with excitement. Badeaux was less inclined as usual; he held a handkerchief in one hand and his head in the other.
"Do get on with this." I lay the leather bound score on his desk. The door behind us soon comes flying open.
"So sorry I am late! Gustave was being rather fussy this… Oh…" Christine's eyes always manage to find mine weather I like it or not.
"Good morning Madame, you are not late. We haven't even opened the score yet. Please have a seat." Badeaux rises from his stool and pulls out the chair for the Madame to sit. I quickly do the same for Belle, placing a small kiss to her hand.
"Now then; here is the score and the synopsis." I begin to retell the tale of Trinity and Anastasia and their love triangle for Christian. I am no more through with the first act when the diva begins to protest the name of her character.
"Trinity is rather dull compared to Anastasia. Wouldn't something more elegant like Madeline?"
"I do agree with you Madame." Kiss asses… I roll my eyes and borrow their quill and scratch out the name Trinity and add Madeline. At least the diva seems to like the part of her singing an aria in the first act. I hand her the music for the aria in hopes to distract her from the rest of my opera. Act II begins when Christian comes to call on Madeline and is greeted by her sister. She lets the tenor in and bids him to have a seat while she gets her sister. The two spend the day singing to their hearts content while Anastasia plays for them. As Christian goes to leave he catches Anastasia and asks her to join him in the garden where they sing and dance and fall in love. I tread carefully as I choose my words, but then one of those managers has to bud in.
"Won't it be rather hard to change the stage from a house to a garden?" Leroux you aren't helping me any…
"If the stagehands will follow my instructions it will be as simple as moving a chair." I continue with my explanation to the twits and the prima diva. They sister begin to talk about the tenor, claiming that he has fallen in love with her and not the other. The sisters agree that they each will have one chance to sway his mind. After supper one night Madeline gives a small concert, singing her best aria as her sister plays. Then Anastasia dances like it is her last time on earth. In the end Christian will choose Anastasia, but not without one last fight from Madeline. She tries to take her sister's place at the wedding scene, but Anastasia manages to escape her captors and run down the aisle of the church, stopping the wedding. Christian kills Madeline and lets Anastasia dress in the wedding gown for them to say their vows. "That sounds rather cruel, shouldn't the singer get the man?" Christine chides. I look up from the score, her big doe eyes fooling everyone but me. Badeaux has long since left; claiming his fever had returned.
"I don't know Madame; I think everyone will like it. And this has nothing to do with who the crowd will pick as their favorite." Christine stomps her foot.
"I will not have it! I think the young soprano should win in the end!"
"That is not what I have written you little diva, the dancing girl wins in the end…" I can feel myself growling. Belle puts a hand to my arm, worried at what will happen.
"I have a suggestion…" all eyes snap to the timid manager. He clears his throat and fumbles with his handkerchief.
"What if we rehearsed both ending…" My eyes go wide. What the hell was he talking about? I didn't HAVE another ending written. This ending was and will be the only way MY opera WILL end. He continues. "What if at the performance we let the crowd decide who they want… then have that ending… as the…" Leroux trails off, but no more explanation is really needed. At first I wish to stride out and strangle him, then I catch a glance at Belle and Christine; What horror would it be if a stagehand turn ballerina out shown the house's Prima Donna? What a black spot on her reputation… It is all I can do to hid my cat-like grin. I settle for crossing my arms and glaring at Leroux before letting out a small huff and agreeing to his madness. I can feel Christine beam with excitement; almost as if she knows she will win this competition. I return to my opera to gather the music for Cadenza as Leroux dashes out to check up on his partner. A pair of hands grab mine and pull me from the score, pieces of parchment flying everywhere as lips land on mine. I hoped to see a pair of dark blue eyes, but they were chocolate brown. I push them from my view, only to have her angelic voice practically sing out.
"We shall be a wonderful couple! Just like we once were my Angel of Music…" What has gotten into this woman?! She has all but forgotten about her husband and child, and is now trying to relive a past that was just that; the past. She was once again in love with me, though this was beyond the once child-like adoration that I fooled her with years ago. This was more of an adult romance; love and lust and seduction… My head turns to Belle, who is holding pieces of parchment in her hand, her face while like snow. Her eyes roll back as she goes limp. I practically push the Vicomtess from my arms and try to catch Belle. Her head hits the floor like a potato, a sack of potatoes.
"Look at what you did you wretched woman! You are a curse on my existence!" Her peach skin goes pale as she… cries? Her eyes glass over as tears well up, but they never fall. Let the bitch cry, I no longer care for her, she made her choice long ago! My eyes turn back to Belle. The back of her arm is beginning to turn purple, her cheek as well. I gather my music and carry her out the door. I can hear the mad clicking of the Vicomtess's heals as she storms out of the office. There will be no rehearsal for today, at least for us. I set her down in one of the auditorium chairs while I hand Cadenza and Madame Giry the scores. Madame glances over my shoulder, her ebony eyes catching a gimps of Belle. They soon turn their attention back to me, wishing an explanation. All I do is utter Christine's name and she nods her head before bidding me good day to start rehearsal with her girls. Cadenza passes out the music for a quick sight read of the opera. I can hear a small reminder that the piece comes from 'him' and suddenly the newly sight read piece begins to sound rehearsed. By the time I return to Belle she is awake, holding her head in her hands.
"Please tell me I was hallucinating…" I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I walked just past her, keeping my back to her.
"No…" I hardly recognized my own voice. It resonated in my body like I was someone else. She made no sound; no tears, no scream, no cry, nothing. I wondered if she had fainted again.
"Did you enjoy it?" those four words sent spikes into my heart. I didn't turn around, seeing her heartbreak would kill me. Hearing her voice was bad enough; it was hollow, weak, lifeless.
"No I did not, I found it rather disgusting." She still made no sound. I back up to see her; her hands hold her heavy head as tears drip to the floor. I come to my knees and take her in my arms.
"I can't do this..." I bring her face to mine and kiss her forehead softly.
"Yes you can… with my help you can." I brush away a loose strand of hair. "There is one thing we need to do though…"
"What's that?" I take her hands in mine, fiddling with her engagement ring.
"We need to keep it a secret, just until the night of the performance; then we shall tell the world… I have a silver band for you to wear until then…" Belle closed her eyes and just sat there, it seemed like an eternity before she looked back at me. How I wish I knew what was going on in her head.
"Alright, but do I still get to stay with you…?" I sigh and kiss her hands.
"Of course mon amour, but we shall have to leave separately." For the first time since this morning she gives me a smile.
"What about the mirror? Christine knows about the mirror."
"I don't know; we shall think of something." Fear begins to rise in her eyes, her whole body softly shaking. "Don't fret mon ange." I kiss her forehead once again. "I will protect you…" I pull her up from the chair and guide her to the passage under the orchestra. Once we are in one of the storage rooms, I pick her up in my arms, and not a moment too soon. She goes limp in my arms. I never knew someone could worry over me like this until now; my adventures in Persia taught me that no one cares; and even when I met Madame and Christine, they too were cold to me on occasion. But now, now I hold a girl in my arms who has worried herself sick over me; worried over if I will leave her for an old infatuation; worried that something will happen to me. I sing to her while I wander through the maze, remembering which levers to pull and how to avoid my traps. Soon we arrive home as she softly begins to stir. I look down and smile as she curls closer into my chest.
"How does a hot bath sound mon amour?"
"Only if I have some company…" I grin and happily oblige her. We both stay silent as we wash away the day's distresses. This is going to be hell in a handbasket… how I actually let myself get talked into all this mess I wasn't very sure. Why exactly was I doing this? To prove a point? Revenge? Selfish reasons maybe? I let my mind wander as the water is drained from the tub and we change into more comfortable clothes. I retreat to my piano, Belle at my side as play a new composition. It sounds troubled and eerie, never knowing what note will come next but somehow all the notes come together to create a work of art. Belle's arms are around my waist, her head on my shoulder.
"I love it when you play. Everything melts away and the world is right, even for a little while." I smile and kiss her cheek, a yawn escapes her lips.
"Someone is tired?"
"It has been a rather taxing day…" I couldn't agree more. And nothing would be better than to curl in bed with my wife to be. I play one more piece, her favorite Music of the Night before retiring to her side. She stretches up to kiss me as I come to bed, several loud pops echo from her back. I draw back.
"Please don't tell me that was you?!" she gives a soft laugh.
"It happens when I get stressed. All that energy and tension is stored in my back and neck. Then you came around and released it." I had to laugh at her logic; it did make sense. I rolled her on her stomach and began to rub her back and neck as I sang her favorite song once again, a helpless sigh softly filling the air. Her back popped several more times as I worked, once I even though I broke her back. It sounded like the crack of a horse whip. She flinched and balled the sheets in her hands, but soon relaxed even more.
"Any better mon amour?" She gave no answer. I looked to the side, her eyes closed. "Belle?" I shook her bare shoulder, still nothing. She's fallen asleep. I leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, then her cheek as I climbed off her and pulled her into my chest. She grabbed my arm and held it to her like a child. "Bonne nuit mon amour. Je t'aime pour toujours…" I whisper before falling asleep at her side.
