A/N: Well, third chapter's up! I got a lot less hits for chapter 2 as compared to chapter 1, and still no reviews, which makes me think that the story was just too bad that you guys just opened it and decided not to read any more... Hopefully third time's a charm and I'll get at least one review this time? (: I would really love to hear what you think, so please leave a review! It can even be a one liner telling me if you liked it, or you hated it. (Though I do hope you liked it.) I'm posting up chapter 3 quickly just for that!
Chapter 3 comes with a bit more fluff, I'm building the story up as we go... I don't know if this will have a really concrete plot, or if the whole thing is just going to be fluff, because quite frankly, I suck at writing villains and credible plots. We will see how it goes.
Please read and review! It keeps the author happy and writing! (:
xx Hazel
Chapter 3: Plausible Friendships
Paris, 1880
"You did what? Kindly repeat yourself, Mademoiselle Bellamy." The manager clucked his tongue impatiently, not sure if he had heard her right the first time. Alphonse Debienne, the current manager of the opera house, was a rather dignified man of nearing fifty years of age. His dark brown hair was sprinkled liberally with grey, and the hair at the side of his temples was greying too. He had been the manager for quite a number of years, having taken over the post from the old manager not long after Antoinette had arrived at the Palais Garnier.
"Monsieur, please! I couldn't leave her out in the cold! She could have died." Antoinette pleaded, gesturing to the baby in her arms. The baby gave a satisfied gurgle, as if to agree with what Antoinette had just said. Antoinette knew Debienne would cave in sooner or later; the manager was not a bad man. Debienne ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly and fixed her with a stern stare.
"Well, what do you propose we do with this little baby here, then, Mademoiselle Bellamy?"
"She could stay with me in the dormitory, sir! There's a spare bed there next to mine, she could take it when she's older. She can earn her keep by running errands around the opera house; you know the wardrobe department is always in need of another person to sew the costumes, and we could even train her for the corps de ballet when she's old enough! We always have a lack of dancers!" Antoinette rambled off wildly. Debienne sighed resignedly.
"I don't suppose she will make much of a difference around here anyway. I just don't want her interfering with your rehearsal time, mademoiselle." He warned. Antoinette nodded fervently.
"She will be a perfect angel, I just know it, sir! Thank you so much!" She gushed. She would have grabbed his hands in gratitude, but they were busy carrying little Amélie. He looked a little embarrassed, and waved his hand dismissively.
"Run along now then, dinner will be served soon, I suppose, and you'll be wanting your dinner, and so will the little one. What did you say her name was again?"
"Ah, Amélie-Rose, sir."
"Welcome to the Palais Garnier then, little Amélie. Now do run along, mademoiselle. I have other things to settle. I will give you fifteen francs extra each month for her upkeep, and you will have to make do with that." He added offhand. Antoinette raised her eyebrows; she had not expected such generosity from the manager.
"Thank you again, sir!" She said, before rushing out the door, in case he changed his mind.
By the time dinner ended, news about the new baby in the opera house had spread throughout like wildfire. Many of the ballet rats in the corps de ballet crowded into the dormitory room Antoinette shared with some of the other ballet rats to coo and gasp over the new baby. Even La Carlotta, the prima donna, had to overcome her curiosity by strutting in to look at the new baby, but when Amélie began to wail at the top of her lungs after a whiff of La Carlotta's strongly scented floral perfume, La Carlotta coughed disdainfully, and sailed out of the room muttering under her breath about noisy children and their lack of appreciation for beauty. The prima ballerina La Célestin passed by Carlotta on her way out, and she giggled to see her leave in a huff. Making her way over to Antoinette's bed, she peered closely at the baby held in Antoinette's arms.
"Let me see her." She demanded, not unkindly. Antoinette gladly surrendered the baby over to her. La Célestin cooed at Amélie, bobbing her in her arms, and Amélie made small happy sounds. "Well, we will make a dancer out of you, won't we, my pet?" La Célestin said, before handing her back to Antoinette, then gliding out of the room gracefully.
With little Amélie in her arms again, Antoinette sat back against her pillows, closing her eyes wearily. It had been a long day, what if rehearsals, errand running, and now a new baby to take care of. Her rest was cut short, however, when the door flew open again, and the ballet rats she shared the dormitory room with burst in excitedly, all babbling loudly.
"We heard there was a new baby!"
"Is she adorable? We heard she's really sweet!"
"What does she look like, Antoinette?"
"Are you sure she's not really yours, Antoinette?"
"Don't be a fool, you idiot! Antoinette has been here every day, do you think we wouldn't have noticed if she was pregnant and ran off to have a baby?"
"Let me see her, let me see her!"
Antoinette winced as the baby began to wail upon the onset of all the high-pitched, excited voices. She tried to quieten the baby by bouncing her in her arms, making soothing noises.
"Quiet, girls!" She warned them sternly, and the ballet rats lowered their voices, chastened. Antoinette had always had a way to make them behave even at their most unruly moments. Some of them called it her gift; others said that she was merely bossy. The ballet rats, trying their best to be quiet, crowded around the baby, running their fingers over her now rosy cheeks and cooing over the strands of russet hair scattered on the baby's head.
"She's probably going to grow up to be real pretty, isn't she?" Sorelli, a ballet rat barely past the age of thirteen, said enviously. "Her hair looks like it's the most gorgeous shade of bronze, and those eyes! Bluer than a clear summer's sky."
"Oh, Sorelli, you're one to talk!" Another ballet rat responded, and the rest chorused in agreement. Sorelli, with her thick, lustrous black locks, so black they almost appeared a dark blue, and her pale, unblemished skin, was one of the prettier girls in the corps de ballet, but her insecurities at the young age of thirteen were many. Antoinette shook her head wryly.
"Girls, it's late. It's time to sleep, and the baby needs her rest too. You know we have stayed up past lights out already." She told them. As the oldest in the dormitory, Antoinette had taken it upon herself to mother them around. The ballet rats groaned, but most complied and went around, untying their hair, slipping into their nightgowns and turning down their bedclothes. Amélie seemed to have dozed off herself. Antoinette lowered herself gingerly down beside Amélie, praying that she would not squash her accidentally in her sleep. She had had no experience with babies.
Paris, 1882
Two years had passed relatively quickly. Amélie had grown into a chubby toddler, a head full of russet locks and a beaming face with charming blue eyes. She was not a pretty toddler, no, with freckles and lips that were rather too full, but all the ballet rats agreed that she was an extremely sweet child all the same. The corridors were often filled with cries calling for Amélie to bring them the hair ribbons that they had forgotten to bring along for rehearsals, or to help them to fetch some other item from their rooms in the opera house. Amélie was, of course, only too happy to oblige, her little feet pattering around the hallways as she completed their errands, to be rewarded by a pat on the head, or a little bit of candy.
Antoinette was heartened by how well Amélie had grown. She had been worried that she would not have the skills required to bring up the little girl, but as it was, in the bustling opera house, Amélie thrived and flourished like a blooming rose. She admired the ballet rats for their pretty costumes, often sparkling with sequins, or flowing behind them like the wind, and she often told Antoinette happily that one day, she would be wearing one of those costumes too.
Antoinette herself was almost twenty, and training to take over the place of La Célestin, who was preparing to retire soon. La Célestin had found herself a wealthy old widowed landowner with no children who adored her to bits, and she was all ready to retire from her life on the stage to take residency in one of his large properties. There had been a large flurry of gossip the day La Célestin announced her imminent departure, followed by a triumphant cackle from La Carlotta, who had never been able to see eye to eye with the dainty blonde ballerina. The gossip had, naturally, been about who was to be La Célestin's successor. As one of the more accomplished ballerinas in the corps de ballet, Antoinette was sure that she had the potential to take on the role and succeed in it. Her practice hours became long, with few breaks in between, and Amélie found herself having the wander the corridors, searching for something to amuse herself with.
It was during one of Antoinette's long practices that Amélie saw him.
She had been sitting by herself in a dark corridor, staring at the cracks in the wall, tracing them with her eyes and trying to find a pattern in them, wondering what she would do next, when she heard a faint pop. The wall next to her suddenly slid open, and somebody stepped out. She jumped up with a start, squeaking in surprise. The person who had stepped out coughed in surprise as well. He turned to go, but Amélie stopped him with a tug on the hem of his pants. She was bored, and she had nobody to play with since most of the ballet rats were either practicing, or having dinner. She figured that this newcomer could entertain her for a while, since he did not seem to be busy with rehearsals. He turned back to look at her, and it was only then that she realized that half of his face was covered with a white mask. She stared at the mask curiously.
The strangest thing happened next, for the masked stranger held out a hand to her and beckoned. There seemed to be something rather familiar about him, even though she had no idea who he was. She had never seen him before. Amélie put her small hand into his without hesitation, beaming up at him innocently. When he started walking back into the passageway, Amélie followed excitedly. This was fun; it was even better than playing hide and seek with some of the younger ballet rats.
Erik stared at the little girl walking a little unsteadily beside him, a little unsure of what he was doing. He had managed to stay out of her life for the past two years, only meeting Antoinette briefly once in a while to assure her that he was still alive, and yes, he still desperately wanted to get out of the opera house to travel the world. To be honest, Antoinette had also been busy with her practices, and he had not wanted to disturb her. She deserved the spot of prima ballerina, though he grudgingly admitted to her that La Célestin had been a superb dancer, flitting about as though she were flying on wings. He watched as the little girl innocently followed him to wherever he led her to.
When they arrived at the storeroom, he ushered her in, and she immediately ran about the room, trailing her hand over the rich fabrics of the costumes that hung in racks at the sides of the room, giggling happily. He sat down on a crate and watched her, quite unsure of how to proceed. Finally, she exhausted the supply of costumes, and obligingly ran back to his side, plopping herself onto the floor and staring up at him. He sighed; the dusty floor was no place for a little girl to be sitting.
"Would… would you like to sit somewhere else?" He tried to ask, his voice breaking slightly. She grinned happily, and tapped his knee. He stared down at his knee for a few seconds, before comprehending her. "Somewhere else, perhaps?"
She frowned, and shook her head, tapping his knee again. He wondered briefly if she was mute. That could not be, because he had often heard her girlish cries as she ran through the corridors of the opera house, chased by some other little girl in a game of tag. He watched as she set her mouth in an obstinate line, much like Antoinette when she was trying to force him to do something, and despite himself, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It seemed that Antoinette had a rather large influence on her. Erik stared at her, unmoved, and she stared back at him, pouting. It seemed they had reached something of an impasse. He sighed, and gingerly picked her up, balancing her on his knee as far as he possibly could without her completely falling off. Amélie giggled happily, and wriggled herself until she found a somewhat comfortable position on his bony knees.
Before Erik could respond, Amélie had turned, and with a curious expression on her face, tugged his mask off. His first instinct was to open his mouth to shout angrily, but one of her little chubby hands rose up to pat his deformed cheek gently. He had flinched, but now he reveled in her innocent touch.
"Hello. Tell me a story!" She demanded imperiously, as way of introduction. "I'm Amélie. Amélie-Rose."
It was rather late when Antoinette finally finished her practice, and she headed back to her dormitory, only to realize that Amélie was nowhere to be seen. A quick search around the area did not reveal any trace of Amélie, and after asking around, she discerned that Amélie had been missing for a good two hours of the evening. Nobody had seen her anywhere.
Almost frantic now, Antoinette dashed around the corridors, shouting for Amélie, and praying desperately to hear a reply from the little girl. She ran down the stairs to the unused storeroom, intent on asking Erik to help her look for the little girl. He might have seen her while he walked unseen through the opera house.
She had not been expecting to hear Erik's musical laugh resounding from the room. She frowned. Has Erik finally gone mad, living by himself in this abandoned place? She crept closer to the door, pressing her ear to it cautiously, and to her immense puzzlement, she heard childish giggles emanating from behind the door. Amélie?
"Did the brave knight kill the evil dragon? Did he?"
"Yes, he did. He took his large sword, shiny and sharp, and he drove it straight into the stomach of the poisonous dragon that had captured his beautiful princess. Of course, the dragon died, and the knight was a hero."
"A hero!" Antoinette could hear the sound of clapping hands. "Did he manage to marry the princess, then? The beautiful princess?"
"He did, my little rose. He did. The king was so pleased with the knight that he gave his daughter's hand in marriage to the brave knight, and the two lived quite happily ever after."
Unable to control herself anymore, Antoinette opened the door. Erik looked up in both surprise and horror.
"Ah… Erik. There you are. I was looking for Amélie." Antoinette managed to choke out, trying her best to suppress her giggles. She was a little shocked, though. Amélie was clearly nestled quite comfortably in Erik's lap, and Erik's mask was balancing precariously on the edge of another crate. He hurriedly grappled for his mask, sliding it over his face. When Amélie saw Antoinette, she clambered off Erik's lap, and bounced up to Antoinette happily.
"He told me stories!" She announced to Antoinette, beaming excitedly. "Stories about princesses and dragons and knights!"
Antoinette had never seen a fourteen-year-old boy look so embarrassed before.