A/N: Enter Twiddledee and Twiddledum! That's what I secretly call the new managers of the opera house. Ok, just kidding. This chapter follows the actual music plot quite closely, but I hope I managed it make it as original as it could possibly get.
Savannah White: Don't worry, Amelie-Erik conversations are on the horizon! Not this chapter, sadly, but SOON.
Nikki: (I assume you are the new follower Nikki1991?) I love writing in Erik's POV too! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far hehe, and don't worry, there won't be 100 percent sweet stuff, at least not until the ending, when all the loose ends are tied and conflicts are resolved. Then I'll bring in the whole fluff artillery, with the big guns and all!
Lydia the tygeropean: Do you mean Antoinette? XD And yes, she is very sweet toward Erik!
Masked Man 2: Hmm I could not think of any other plot to insert into the story, so I decided to move onto the plotline of the actual musical! Of course, I do wish I could have written it better!
MaskedNightingal: Thank you so much! It makes me really happy to know you enjoy the story (:
Nack3490: Thank you! New updates are up every Monday (:
Many thanks to Nikki1991, MademoiselleLovely & Nack3490 for the favs/follows! I appreciate it. (:
Chapter 29: Richard Firmin and Giles Andre
Paris, 1896, during the final rehearsal of Hannibal
The theatre echoed with the sounds of beating drums and glorious trumpet fanfare, a rousing piece of music meant to cheer for the return of the triumphant Hannibal. In the background, the ballet de corps danced a lilting, graceful dance, twirling and leaping, a dance of tribute to their great king Hannibal, dressed in bustiers of red and gold, with gold rope running down their legs in the form of a skirt. Madame Giry stood to one side, eyeing them sternly with eyes as sharp as a hawk, on the lookout for any single member who did not dance as perfectly as Madame Giry wished.
Carlotta stood centre stage, dressed in all the finery of Hannibal's queen, her hair piled high upon her head, held in place by gilded gold and filigree, bejeweled flowers and seed pearls. Her sizable girth was compressed into a lavish dress of red and green, dripping with gold embellishments, with wide panniers and a full skirt. Around her neck hung a heavy ornamental necklace, and around her wrists were jeweled wristlets. In her wavering, shrill voice that could barely reach the notes that Elissa was to sing, she sang her part loudly. Beside her, the primo uomo Piangi stood, his portly figure rather complementary to Carlotta's. As they reached the peak of the final song, the entire opera house gave a collective wince as Piangi wobbled on his high notes, eventually settling on an off-tune rendition of the last few bars of the song. The song ended with a dramatic clap of the cymbals, and Reyer put his baton down, ready to criticize and give advice on how to improve, when there came a ruckus from somewhere in the theatre.
"Excuse me, please, excuse me. Gentlemen, as you can see, rehearsals are underway for the final production of Chalumeau's Hannibal. The cast has been hard at work for this final performance, to be held tomorrow night, which is to be a grand event." Debienne pushed his way through the cast on the stage, creating a pathway for himself and the two men following behind him. Whispers sounded through the cast, with ballet rats gossiping softly about the identities of the two strange men.
"Please, monsieur, we are in the midst of rehearsals!" Reyer called out angrily, tapping his baton on the conductor's stand. "If you could allow us to continue our rehearsal!"
"That is our resident conductor, Monsieur Eustache Reyer. He's a little of a tyrant, very impatient and with perfectionist tendencies, but a very good conductor." Debienne told the two men behind him, who nodded thoughtfully.
Debienne moved to centre stage, where he attempted to address the large crowd. "Now, now, please quieten down."
When the murmurs and whispers failed to die down, Debienne cast a desperate look at Madame Giry, who grasped her cane and brought it down sharply upon the wooden floor. Immediately, the ballet rats shut their mouths. Debienne sighed.
"As I was attempting to say before this—may I introduce Monsieur Giles Andre and Monsieur Richard Firmin?" He gestured first to the taller man, with curly grey hair and a thin moustache, then to the shorter, portly, bald man with a thick bushy mustache. "Now, there have been many rumours about my imminent retirement, though I know not how many of you found out, but I would like to say that those rumours were all true. I will be retiring as of today, and these two gentlemen are the new owners of the Palais Garnier. I hope you will continue to serve them well."
He cast a wild eye over the cast, and brought the attention over to Sorelli, who was standing in the middle of the ballet de corps, a vision in her slave girl costume, her black curls tumbling in riots down her back. "That would be La Sorelli, our prima ballerina."
Sorelli giggled prettily and dipped a beautiful curtsey to the gentlemen, who smiled back at the sight of the pretty and lithe ballerina.
Unable to withstand even a minute without the spotlight on her, Carlotta coughed loudly, looking meaningfully at Debienne, and he took the hint. He brought her forward by the hand, gesturing to her. "Richard, Giles, our prima donna Carlotta Guidicelli, who has been our leading soprano for nineteen seasons."
"Prima donna, signora, we are honoured, simply delighted to meet you." Andre gushed charmingly, kissing the back of Carlotta's hand as she simpered at him. "If I recall correctly, Elissa has a rather fine…song… ah, in the middle of Act Two..?"
"Elissa has a beautiful aria in Act Three." Reyer cut in coldly, and a blush stained Andre's cheeks.
"Well, the aria in Act Three. If senora would be so good as to give us a little demonstration—? I am quite a fan of yours." Andre smiled at Carlotta, who simpered, pleased with the adoration she was receiving from him.
"But of course. As my manager commands!" She snapped her fingers haughtily at Reyer. "Monsieur Reyer, if you please! The aria!"
Reyer rolled his eyes, and turned back to the orchestra, raising his baton. "As you wish. I hope two bars will be sufficient."
"Quite sufficient." Carlotta snapped, and prepared to sing.
Behind the ballet rats, Antoinette looked up surreptitiously at the catwalks across the ceiling, specifically at the lone, black clad figure standing above the stage on one of the catwalks. Christine was seated with the other ballet rats, awaiting Carlotta's performance, and Carlotta was centre stage, exactly as they had planned. Antoinette gave a small, brief nod to the figure above the stage, and the person quickly moved to his task, his nimble fingers working to untie thick ropes holding the backdrops up against the stage. His target was the largest backdrop, the one that spanned almost the whole centre stage.
The music started, and Carlotta began to sing. Up above the stage, the heavy backdrop creaked ominously as the figure finally loosened the ropes holding it in place. With a loud crash, the entire backdrop collapsed upon the stage, narrowly missing Carlotta's outstretched hand.
There was chaos. Ballet rats and cast members shrieked and covered their heads with their hands, looking around wildly and staring at the ceiling.
"It's the Phantom of the Opera!" Meg shrilled loudly, running across the stage, almost crashing into Firmin in her haste. "The Phantom of the Opera is here!"
Antoinette shook her head wryly at the sight of her daughter. Meg had always been rather dramatic, and had loved the idea of a ghost haunting the opera house. It was a good thing, for she was now unwittingly helping with Erik's plan.
"Oh for God's sake!" Firmin bellowed, hitting his cane vigorously on the floor. "What in the world is going on here? Show some respect for your managers, girl!"
His question went unanswered as Carlotta let out a great shriek.
"Signora, signora, please." Andre attempted to calm her nerves. "Please, do not fret over it. Where is the chief stagehand? Get him here immediately!"
One of the ballet rats ran into the wings to look for him, and within moments, Joseph Buquet appeared, lumbering forward a little unsteadily, thick ropes slung over his shoulder, the scent of alcohol wafting from him.
"It was not me, monsieur." He spat. "I was not at my duty when the accident happened."
"Then how could this have happened? Explain this, my good man." Firmin said loudly.
Buquet shrugged his shoulders, and cast a malicious stare up at the ceiling. "It must have been the work of a ghost."
At the mention of a spectre, some of the ballet rats gave a loud squeal, and Carlotta shrieked again, her bosom quivering with rage.
"Signora, please! These things do happen, it was merely an accident." Andre patted her arm reassuringly, but it had been the wrong thing to say. Carlotta rounded on him, her eyes bulging with rage, muttering Italian obscenities under her breath.
"What do you know, you dimwit? You have been here for less than an hour! These 'things', indeed! These things have been happening for years, and I am the sole victim of all of them!" She shrilled furiously. "He," she pointed accusingly at Debienne, "did nothing, absolutely nothing, to stop them, the weak fool that he is! He even encouraged that thing to continue with his tyrannical reign by doing whatever he said! And you, you are as bad as him! An accident, indeed! Well, until you stop these accidents from occurring, I will not sing! I will not stay here and be made a mockery of any longer!"
She burst into dramatic tears, and ran toward the exit. Piangi followed her hastily, calling out endearments to her.
Firmin and Andre stared at her departure in shock.
Firmin was the first to recover his senses. "Debienne, you made no mention of such things when you sold the opera house to us. What is the meaning of this?", he demanded angrily.
Debienne raised his palms upward in a helpless gesture. "The opera house is now yours, messieurs. Now if you need me, I believe I shall be in Frankfurt. I have retired, Firmin." He swept out of the room hurriedly, leaving the two new owners looking at his departing form haplessly.
Andre rubbed a hand across his forehead, where a sheen of sweat had begun to form. "Well." He could think of no other words to express himself.
Firmin scoffed. "La Carlotta will be back. Where else does she have to go?"
"Oh, really? And if she does not? What will you do then, monsieur?" Antoinette stepped forward gracefully. "It is a full house tonight, I believe, and I cannot imagine turning away a full audience if La Carlotta happens to keep to her word and not sing tonight."
Firmin stared at her in disbelief. "Then we will get an understudy! I believe all theatre productions have understudies for a reason." He puffed up his chest proudly, as though it was something of an accomplishment for him to know something about understudies. "And who might you be?", he added as an afterthought.
"Madame Giry, dance instructor, monsieur." Antoinette sketched a graceful curtsey. "I am in charge of the ballet de corps."
Firmin made an unimpressed noise, and turned to the conductor expectantly.
"There is no understudy, monsieur." Reyer informed him coldly. "La Carlotta did not permit understudies, for she insisted that only she herself could play any role to perfection, and nobody else was to learn her part."
"Oh, Firmin, we are ruined." Andre groaned, clapping one hand over his eyes. "Our first production, and a full house, and we will have to return all the money. Imagine the scandal, the embarrassment!"
Firmin sputtered indignantly. "What do you mean, no understudy? What are we to do? We need to have someone to sing tonight! Our new patron is arriving for his first performance in the Palais Garnier and somebody has to sing!"
Antoinette smiled a little. Their plan was going accordingly, and there was only one little thing to do before it was ensured that Christine would debut tonight. She stepped forward to open her mouth and speak, but was interrupted, quite surprisingly, by Meg, who stood forward boldly, pulling Christine along with her. What is Meg doing?
She would have made a move to stop her daughter, but the words tumbling excitedly from Meg's mouth mirrored what she had been about to say, so Antoinette remained where she was, an eyebrow raised.
"Christine Daae could sing it, monsieur! She said she has been taking lessons from a great teacher. She is an amazing singer, monsieur." Meg gushed, pushing Christine forward. Christine looked at Meg in horror, trying to wrench her arm from Meg's grasp, but Meg was insistent, urging her forward and nodding at her assuredly.
"Oh no, monsieur, I couldn't, no, I just…" Christine broke off awkwardly, unsure as to what to say. She looked around, seemingly frightened that the entire cast's attention was on her.
Antoinette decided to push the situation ahead. "Let Christine Daae sing. She has been well taught by an extremely talented teacher."
Christine turned to look at Madame Giry in shock, wondering how Madame Giry knew about her lessons, about how wonderful her teacher was. She mouthed the words 'how did you know?' to her, but received only a raised eyebrow and a small, encouraging smile in return. Christine opened her mouth to refuse the invitation to sing. I cannot do this right now, I have not prepared, I have not talked to my Angel, and he is not here with me right now!
Antoinette recognized the look of pure panic on Christine's face, and knew that the girl would most likely embarrass herself if she sang in that state. For goodness's sake, Erik. You had such a glorious plan, but you failed to reveal it to the main perpetrator of your plan, and now she is quavering in her feet. How will your plan work this way?
She stepped forward to place her hands comfortingly on the petite girl's shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Your teacher is right here with you, Christine. You cannot see him, but he is here, and he is encouraging you with all his heart. Believe in yourself, Christine, and believe in the skills that your teacher has taught you. Sing."
Christine twisted her head back to look at Madame Giry in shock again, but Madame Giry merely shook her head. "No questions now, child, for the managers are waiting. Your teacher is waiting. Sing."
Christine swallowed the lump of nervousness in her throat, eyeing the curious eyes staring at her. She nodded to Reyer shakily, and Reyer lifted his baton, starting the opening bars of the aria. Christine closed her eyes and imagined her lessons with her teacher, his strict criticism, and his teachings.
She opened her mouth and sang.
The first few bars were shaky and weak. There were whispers from the crowd, snide remarks about a ballet rat who knew naught about her position, a silly girl who dared to presume she had talent.
No! It cannot end like this. Christine steeled herself against the nasty comments, and tried to think of her Angel's calming presence. She thought about what he would say, and about his comments on her singing, and she took a deep breath, ready to continue.
It was then that she heard his voice echoing in her head. "Confidence, child. You must know that you have talent. You are able to sing and awe the entire opera house. Have we not practiced enough, Christine? Did you not assure me that you would be able to take on the role of prima donna? Sing, Christine."
She looked around wildly, wondering how it was possible for his voice to be right next to her ear. Nobody else had seemed to have heard him. The cast members however, had noticed her confusion, and many more now pointing at her, whispering behind their hands. Christine wanted nothing more than to run away, to hide beneath her bedcovers, and cry. But to her left stood Madame Giry, forbidding and stern, yet with an encouraging look in her eyes, and to her right was Meg, dear darling Meg, who was urging her on with large smiles and excitement in her blue eyes.
"Sing, Christine!" His voice commanded her, and so she squeezed her eyes shut, and continued to sing.
This time, she sang like she usually did with her Angel. To the cast gathered on the stage listening to Christine sing, her voice brought to mind memories of a love long gone, of distant pictures and flashes of better times spent together, of a past summer, the remembrance of the warm sun and gentle breeze upon skin. It was strong and sure, and worthy of that of a prima donna.
It was decided that Christine Daae would debut the very next night, in the role of Elissa in the closing production of Chalumeau's Hannibal.
A/N: -drumroll please- In a way, we have now reached a certain Point of No Return (; Stay tuned! As usual, please read/review/fav/follow/let me know what you think!