The smell of fresh dough and sugar glaze filled the Valerius house. Every other week, Michelle would devote one day to baking a variety of breads and sweet rolls for the household. It was one of the few things I had to look forward to in a long while, especially the time when Mamma was sick and I spent all my time at home.
Michelle claims she could have been a successful baker if she were younger, but now she was content to have at least two people enjoy her creations. I dressed quickly and hungrily made my way down the stairs. Michelle greeted my entrance to the kitchen with a warm smile. She pointed with one flour covered hand to the small window over the stove.
"I have a rack cooling over there. Just took them out a few minutes ago." She said.
I observed a rack of large yeast rolls, glistening with some sort of delicate glaze. "May I?"
She laughed. "That's what you are here for anyway. Admit it." She pointed out. "Go ahead."
I reached up and grabbed on, taking a big bite. The texture of the bread was light but filling, and the gaze was some delicious concoction of butter and honey.
"Thank you." I said after I swallowed. She nodded as she went back to her work.
"Don't mention it." She replied shrugging her shoulders. Feeling a bit greedy, I retrieved a napkin from a drawer and snatched another roll.
"I have something for you on the counter, mademoiselle." Michelle called as my back was turned. I stuff the roll in my apron pocket and turned my attention to a large wrapped parcel. I went to it and saw several baguette and some hard rolls tucked inside.
"So you have something to eat at work." Michelle continued to speak, even though her eyes didn't leave her work.
"I shouldn't though…" I started. "I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with Madame, or make you work any…"
"Christine, may I be frank." Michelle let her rolling pin fall to the table with a loud smack and she looked directly at me. "It isn't Madame you are worried about, it's him." She said bluntly.
I bit my lip. What did she know?
"You haven't been taking any food with you for the day and I know you aren't the kind to waste your money on a feast. You've been going hungry until you managed to come home and have supper." She had moved around the table, wiping her hands on her apron but still looking at me. "And you've had been coming in late at night. That's not right."
I felt like I was being accused and quickly thought up of a lie. "My work keeps me…"
Michelle sighed. "You don't have to make an excuse, girl. I know very well why you stay out." I felt my body go tense. Michelle frowned. "I've seen the way he looks at you. I know I haven't been here long, so it may not be my place to say anything. But I still can be concerned for you. I can still care….even if I can't change it."
My shoulder relaxed as the tense feeling left me. She understood.
"Now take the bread and don't let the bastard see you with it." She instructed.
I gathered it up in my arms. "Thank you Michelle." I turned to leave.
"Christine…" she called. "Perhaps there is some one you can tell. I know Madame is still unwell and her mind seems to be going…but perhaps you have a friend. Some one who can protect you…a male friend."
I shook my head. Who would I burden this secret with? Raoul? No.
Who would believe me? My Maestro?
Even as I thought this, something small in the back of my head tried to reason with me. Why would I think the Maestro would not want to help me? He has been so kind to me so far. Why was I so afraid to tell anyone? Why didn't I ask for help?
"I don't have anyone like that." I admitted.
"Then find one. And if he ends up being a lover, so much the better." Michelle said boldly.
I shrugged and thanked her again before heading back upstairs to my room. I found my hat and checked myself in a small mirror I had hung on the back of my door. Something was missing. I put my hand on my chest contemplating as I looked at my reflection.
My locket.
It wasn't under my fingertips. I went over to my dresser and pulled out the first drawer. I looked in the small box were I kept my stockings and stored my few piece of jewelry. It wasn't there. I pulled out my paste ear bobs and some hairpins, but no necklace. I tried to recall taking it off last night. I was still upset about missing my lessons. Maybe I had lost it at the opera.
Now I was frantic, grabbing the bread from Michelle and leaving my hat, I went for the front door.
When I opened my own, I stopped as I saw Frederich standing on the stairs in front of me. His back was turned to me and he was walking around the house in his dressing robe. And I knew in one horrible moment where my necklace was.
"Where is it?" I demanded all fear and hesitation gone for the moment. He turned and looked at me, still sleepy eyed.
"What?"
"My necklace. Don't lie. I know you took it." I was surprised at the coldness of my voice.
He blinked. "Oh yes, that. Don't worry I'll get it back for you." He replied.
"What did you do with it?"
He waved a dismissive hand. "I needed some money for the tables, so I pawned it."
My heart sank. Perhaps I would have been better off not knowing the truth. At most it would have been worth a franc or two to any dealer, but it was worth so much more to me. He had been so desperate for so little money that he robbed me of one of my treasures. It was the only picture I had of my father. I started to cry in spite of myself.
"You could have taken anything." I choked out.
He gave an annoyed sigh. I didn't even attempt to move as he came back up the stairs and pressed his body against my back. "Don't be so worried. Lucky for you Christine, I actually won some money last night. I'll get your necklace back." He reached his fingers to pinch the skin at my throat. "Or better yet, I'll buy you a new one. A better one." His breath was hot against my face as he leaned closer. "Girls like you deserve pretty things from…"
"Get your hands off me!" I hissed, reaching up my hand swiftly. I didn't hit him, but it was enough to make him duck out of the way. I ran downstairs and out the door, slamming it with all my might.
I did my scales that evening without any excitement or delight. The Maestro was clearly too wrapped up in his lesson plan to notice.
He rested his fingers on the keys and spoke with out turning to me. "Now, I think the time is come for more serious practice. I will teach you to sing bel canto, have you heard of it?"
"No." I answered, not sure if it was a truthful reply.
"It's Italian. It means beautiful singing. Now that your voice in well practiced, we will correct your technique. It will make your voice stand out in the chorus among the other sopranos who simply blast out the notes."
He rose and started to pace. Notes flowed from his fingers and throat, but often when he spoke, he seemed agitated. He was far more comfortable playing music than he was talking about it
"Your vibrato is strong, but almost too strong. You must learn to control your tone so that you don't waver when you change your pitch. Also when you reach into your upper register, your voice grows louder to hit the notes. With bel canto, you reach these notes in a light and soft tone. You just touch them. Do you understand?"
I murmured something of a reply. It caught his attention and he stopped his pacing. He reached out and grasped my right hand in his.
"Christine, I sense that your lack of enthusiasm is not just brought on by disinterest. Something is wrong." He stated. With his other hand he gently lifted a finger to my chin, forcing my head up so that our eyes met. "Isn't?"
His eyes widen as he saw the tears in my own eyes. Overcome, I leaned forward, falling into his arms and sobbing. At my first touch, I felt his body go rigid next to mine surprised by my outburst. I did not think I could be emotionally weighed down with my lost. I had managed to keep silent all day not mentioning it to anyone. I suppose withholding my emotions had finally caused them to burst from inside me. Now I was weeping like a child in my music teacher's arm.
Slowly, I felt his arms encircle my shoulders as his hands meet across my back. His longer fingers curled against my backbone and press themselves into me. He kept his head straight but allowed me to cry for as long as I needed, without asking me why.
"Forgive me Maestro…" I choked out. "I have lost something very precious to me and I guess I underestimated how I felt about it."
"Am I correct to assume that I am the first person to know this?" he asked
My face flashed red with embarrassment, but it was not enough to motivate me to withdraw from him. "You are the only one I've told."
"What is it that you have lost?" he continued
I finally pulled away from him, ashamed of myself. "It was a necklace." I started bringing my hand to my collar bone to touch the place where it would have been. "I know it wouldn't be much to most people, but the necklace was my mothers..." I had not stopped crying. "It had a photograph of my father and me when I was a girl. It was taken right after my mother had passed, and even then I knew how important it was. How expensive it must have been for my father to have our portrait made..."my words trailed off and my hands rose to my face to wipe away fresh tears.
"Who took your necklace Christine?" he asked. He did not question how I had lost it. He already seemed to know it was taken from me. I didn't answer at first.
"Tell me Christine." he demanded.
"It was some one I live with."
"A lover?"
I gasped and my face went even redder. "No, nothing like that, no." I protested.
"Then who?" he persisted. He was angry and trying to conceal it.
"He is a relative. No. I...I live with a guardian, a family friend. Her nephew lives with us." I managed to explain. "He somehow took it from my room."
"Why would he have any need to take it?"
I sighed. "He wanted money. He pawned it for money. Money to gamble or drink, I don't know. He promised he get it back, but I know that's a lie." My chest heaved as I felt another sob come on. "I'll never see my necklace again."
He took a few steps around me, standing behind my back. "Don't you have any other family? Any one else you could stay with?" His even tone and questions lead me to believe that he knew I was not telling the whole truth. How could I? He was my teacher. He did not need to be burdened with my personal matters.
"No I have no other family." I admitted.
"And that's why the necklace is so dear to you. It's all you have left of them." he concurred.
I nodded, my lips shut tight afraid to speak or cry. His hands touched my shoulders and squeezed. We stood there for a moment, and I felt my body would have crumpled if I had not been held up by his hands.
"I'm sorry for my behavior." I told him. "I shouldn't have burdened you with my stupid problems."
"No Christine. I am glad you told me." His hand moved away and then returned. I felt a soft texture dangling by my cheek and opened my eyes to see a plain white handkerchief in front of my face. I took it and thanked him.
"If you are too upset, then we could cancel our lesson for today." His serious and professional manner returned and he left me to return to the piano.
I blotted my face with the handkerchief. As it passed over my face, I took in its scent, one unfamiliar to me. I went to stand beside the piano.
"No I want to stay." I told him. Truthfully I did not want to be turned away from the only person to show me kind attention in a long while. I could not bear being sent away. "I want to continue the lesson...please." I offered him back his handkerchief. He put up his hand to push me away.
"No you keep it." He pulled from his collection of music a large sheet and handed it over to me. "I think we can use this opportunity to learn this piece."
I read the first notes of the libretto. Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herze. I instantly recognized this infamous piece from The Magic Flute"This is sung by the Queen of the Night."
"Correct."
Then I observed the notes on the scales. "No, I know what this is. I can't sing this."
At last, a smile. "Why not?"
"It's only one of the most difficult arias ever. I cannot possibly reach these notes."
"Which is why we will start in a lower key." He stated in a matter of fact tone. I sang it through once in a much lower key than it was intended for. I reached all the notes comfortably.
"You see how you lightly touched the higher notes. You were not breathy when you reached them." He pointed out after my first attempt "You were not worried about how high you had to make your voice. Instead they flowed effortlessly off your tongue."
"Yes but will they when I must reach a high f above the staff"
He inclined his head, pretending he did not hear me. "Oh you have such little faith Christine." We started again, and I repeated the song in the same key. The next time, instead of adjusting it height, he made the key start even lower. I continued in this pattern several times, reaching the lowest notes in my register.
Pausing, he complimented me. "You have a very impressive range. I gather you did not know that you could sing that low?" As always, he was correct.
"If you had told me that I could sing those notes before, I wouldn't have believe you." I confessed.
"So shall it be on the opposite end of the scale." His fingers came down hard upon the keyboard striking the opening chord of the aria in the proper key. My chin started to shake and he moved his hand to take mind that was lying on the side of the keyboard. He studied me intently.
"Don't think of the notes. Think of the emotions. This is a song of revenge. It is an ultimatum." He explained. "Take all the emotions you are feeling now. All your anger and all your helplessness. Put them into the song Christine." His hand tightened and I watched the elegant long gloved fingers encircle my hand. Then he launched himself into the music and I followed.
Hell's vengeance boils in my heart;
Death and despair blaze around me!
Forsaken be forever,
Shattered be forever
Hear, gods of vengeance!
And it was over. The last thundering chords of the piano pounded in my ears. I let out a breath so harsh as if I not bothered to breathe at all during the aria. I reached every note. My voice did not break or crack. I hadn't been surprised by a flat note as I soared up the staff.
I had never felt so…alive. I looked at my Maestro. The eyes behind the mask were soft. He was pleased with me.
"I did it."