Salut!

This chapter takes place immediately after the last. I hope you enjoy it. I am grateful for all your wonderful reviews, and I would certainly appreciate any you would give regarding this portion of the work.

Merci,

S.R.

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Cecily was grateful for the final step. The seven story climb was too much; Erik certainly had to have a better way to get around. Besides, the stairs were too open. She knew he had another way. She would have to ask him if she ever saw him again. That was a frightening thought. She hoped she would see him again. She had enjoyed her time with Erik, until he had snapped. Somehow, that mask he wore was connected to his sanity.

She groaned softly as she stooped to pick up the paper containing her dresses. She was getting too old to be running around the Opera House. She was almost twenty, practically the oldest chorus girl in the dormitories! She shook her head, smiling. She was certainly well on her way to being an old maid. Not that she had had much of a chance. Her debutante years hadn't exactly been spent in the finest circles.

The moment she slipped back into the dormitories, she was mobbed by younger girls anxious for her to hold up her end of the bargain. They had left her alone for a time, now she had to confess. Linnea was the first to corner her. "Come on, Cecily! You promised!"

Collapsing onto her bed, she sighed. What was she going to tell them? She certainly didn't have a real beau. Oh well, she would romanticize. The girls were anxious for a love story of any kind, and even if one half of it wasn't real, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. She sat on the bed, feeling years older than she had a few days ago, a much younger than she had climbing the stairs.

"Well, I suppose I did promise. So what would you like to know?"

One girl, a ballet rat, shouted out, "What's he look like?"

Cecily took a deep breath; the masquerade began now. "You get right to it, don't you? Oh, he's handsome enough. He's got dark hair and the greenest eyes you've ever seen. They seem like they stare right through you." She trailed off. Why was it that the green eyes she was describing seemed to dance in front of her minds eye, at once comforting and unnerving.

"Is he rich?" Veronica, a rather vain girl who was trying not to look interested, asked.

"He has money, but doesn't live extravagantly. He lives in a simple house, with only the people and things he needs to care for the grounds and such."

Linnea pressed her hand for her attention. Cecily looked down at her. This girl was closing in on the age when the Opera's wealthy male clients would begin to look at the chorus girls differently. Several of the girls didn't deserve a second look, but Linnea would probably get several courting proposals. Cecily only hoped they were from good men. "Cecily, what is he like?" Cecily wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "I mean, what does he like to do? Surely he doesn't rescue damsels in distress all day?"

The other girls tittered, and Linnea looked genuinely pleased with herself for her joke. "No, I certainly believe I hold that sole honor. What does he like to do? He, um…" Her mind raced. She had not expected a question about the man himself. Most of the girls only cared for what impacted them: wealth, looks, and family. She bit her lip. Not too long a break, or they would guess at her game.

"He plays music." The words leapt from her mouth. It shouldn't have surprised her; the only man she had every really cared to know was obsessed with it.

"Music?"

"He plays the organ and the violin, and loves the opera."

"Does he come here?"

"He prefers anonymity to the parade that the Opera is on performance nights. If he comes, he doesn't tell anyone." She bit her lip again. This was getting too specific. She hadn't realized she was describing Erik until just then, but she couldn't press her luck. Not that an association with the Opera Ghost was likely to be the first thing that came to their minds.

Another girl began, "What about…"

She never finished. The imposing figure of Mme. Giry swept into the room, sending all the ballet rats scrambling for their shoes. "What is going on in here?"

The girls all had the look of startled mice. Cecily sighed, drawing attention to herself. She stood slowly, facing the ballet mistress. "Forgive me, madame, if I was keeping them from practice. They were inquiring about my absence."

Mme. Giry considered her for a moment, then turned back to the girls. "My girls, the bar is waiting for you to practice your exercises. Particular attention to battement fondu développé. Go!" More than half of the girls shuffled out of the room. "The rest of you, M. Reyer has called an impromptu rehearsal."

There was general grumbling as the other girls moved toward the door. "You mean that Carlotta wanted to practice now."

Cecily moved to follow them, but Mme. Giry stopped her. "You're Mlle. Pencombe, are you not?" Cecily nodded, obviously bemused. "You were unable to be in this production, oui? Well, I am in need of a girl to watch over the younger ones. M. LeFevre has agreed to pay you for the service, at least until you work again. You will agree, non?"

Cecily stared open mouthed. "Say something girl! It is not a difficult thing, oui or non?"

"Oui, madame. What would I have to do?"

"Watch over the younger girls for me. You would have to make sure they go where they are supposed to, do not get in the way, are in the dormitories at a reasonable hour…"

"What happens when I can again be in the operas?"

"We shall see. So you will accept?"

"Yes, madame. And thank you."

"You are welcome. I should warn you, though. My daughter Meg is in the troupe you will be watching over. She and her little companion Christine can be quite the pair, I tell you." A rare smile passed across her lips. "I need to be getting to my girls. I will talk to you this evening. A tout a l'heure, mademoiselle."

After Mme. Giry left, she looked down at the note with the red seal tucked into her belt. "I dearly hope you're right about her, monsieur."

A voice she never heard, almost less than a whisper, replied, "As do I, madame. As do I."