"Camille?" Christine tentatively entered her guest room to find her cousin gazing out the window. The younger girl was in a nightgown, dark hair spiraling down her back. She turned at Christine's voice and offered a small smile before patting the spot next to her. Christine accepted the invitation and crossed the room before taking a seat.
"Raoul says that you're still nervous?" She questioned gently, turning from the window to look at the soprano. The older girl's features were still etched with fear, something Camille picked up on immediately.
"Well…yes. I am. I promised your mother that you'd be safe here." Christine replied.
"Am I not? Are there not guards outside?" Camille's questions were rational and seemed to pull the older girl out of her paranoia a bit. Christine nodded slowly and glanced out the window, where an armed man was visible meters away.
"I suppose there are. But Camille, this man is a genius. If he wants something enough, he'll find a way to get it." She warned. Camille stayed silent for a few seconds, weighing what Christine had just said.
"He had a perfect opportunity in the hall today, if that was truly him. So there is no reason that you should be afraid, at least for tonight. Nothing will happen. Raoul will keep you and me safe." Camille pointed out. Christine stared at her for a few seconds, coming to wonder how the younger girl had ended up comforting her. The singer quickly shook what resided of her anxiety and forced a small smile.
"You know, you're very wise for your age." Camille shook her head at the observation and returned her gaze to the window.
"People used to say the same thing about my sister. I suppose I learned it from her." She replied quietly. Christine's smile flickered as she stared at her younger cousin. The mention of her sister had seemed to put a heaviness in the silence that now rested between them. Struggling to find the right words to say, Christine was forced to bring up her own painful experience.
"I don't want to force you to talk about this. But I know that it hurts when you hear that sort of comment. Every time someone tells me how I inherited my father's gift for music, my heart breaks. It's just another reminder that he isn't here anymore. I just…I know what you're going through." Christine offered cautiously. Camille turned to look at her once again.
"You actually remind me of her quite a lot." She admitted softly. Christine's eyes saddened as she watched her younger cousin bite her bottom lip, holding back what she presumed to be tears. Tentatively, she raised her hand and rested it on Camille's shoulder; a shy gesture of comfort. "She was the real performer, you know. Adelaide was incredible and I know my mother wants me to be just like her. I think that's why she sent me here to stay with you."
"Camille," Christine shook her head, frowning. "Your mother did no such thing. The only reason you're here is because she wanted us to get acquainted with each other. And I want that as well."
"Christine, that very well may have been a part of it. But I know my mother and I know she wants me to become the perfect ballerina that she lost. I just know it." Camille argued. Christine fell silent, unable to find anything else to say that could help. Finally, at a loss for words, she stood up from the window seat.
"Let's just go to sleep. It's been a difficult day. I'm sure tomorrow will be better." The older girl suggested. Camille stood up and nodded silently in agreement. She watched as Christine retreated to the large sofa near the bedroom's fireplace, covering herself with the blanket that usually rested on the arm.
"Wake me if you should need anything." Camille looked up as she slid into her bed and nodded at her cousin. Blowing out the candles beside her bed, the teen settled in and quickly drifted off to sleep; the masked man she had encountered earlier completely gone from her mind.
"Camille? Camille, wake up. It's time to get ready." The young girl squinted as harsh sunlight assaulted her eyes and rolled over, away from the window. She waited for her vision to adjust before opening her eyes and sitting up. Christine, dressed and smiling, stood beside her bed. One of the new dresses they had purchased yesterday was laid out for her on one of the chairs.
"You certainly are a sound sleeper. Raoul knocked on your door to wake me up nearly an hour ago and you didn't so much as stir." The soprano noted. Camille shrugged, throwing her blankets off and standing. The girl in front of her hardly resembled the one she had spoken to last night, who was scared out of her wits. It was astounding how much of a turnaround Christine had made overnight.
"Yes, well, the only thing I love more than dancing is sleeping. It's my second favorite hobby." Camille chuckled, stretching and wincing as her joints cracked.
"I'll leave you so that you may dress. Your breakfast is on the cart near the door if you're hungry. Our carriage should be arriving shortly and then we'll be on our way to the theatre." The older girl gestured towards the covered cart on the other side of the room and then hurried out the door. Camille moved quickly to change into the dress that had been set out for her, as well as to quickly fix her hair so that her curls would not fall into her eyes at rehearsal. Managing to down a few quick bites of the food that had been brought up for her, Camille hurried out the door and down the stairs, where her cousin waited for her in the kitchen.
"Shall we?" Christine asked, glancing out the window where their carriage waited. Raoul had left earlier, wishing to arrive at the theater before them in order to instruct security to be entirely vigilant in the coming days. Camille nodded and followed her out onto the street. Their coachman opened the door and helped the two women into the riding compartment before taking his seat at the reins and urging his horses forward.
"Please, remember to be careful today. I'll come and find you during the midday break." Christine murmured, pulling Camille into a quick hug. The two of them were outside the dancers' changing room and a wardrobe assistant waited impatiently for Christine to finish her goodbye. The lead tailor had not been pleased at the soprano's sudden flight yesterday.
"Alright. I will be." Camille responded sincerely. She nodded at Christine before entering the unfamiliar room. Mirrors and seats lined the walls and Camille hurried to find the empty one with her name at it, ignoring the stares of the other ballerinas. The teen quickly sat at her designated space and frowned at the sealed envelope that rested there. Glancing about, Camille opened the letter curiously and unfolded the single piece of stationary. Her dark brown eyes scanned the neatly scrawled words, widening with each sentence. They finally rested at the signature at the end, heart pounding after what she had just read.
"Come ladies; we rehearse!" A sharp order snapped Camille out of her thoughts and the dancer quickly shoved the letter into one of the drawers at her dressing area. Madame Giry's words had set the other dancers into a panic to race out of the room and Camille joined them, her eyes flickering anxiously around her, and the letter the only thing on her mind.
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