3
A day in the opera house was rather simple for Katrina, though always full.
Every morning, she would rise and help her uncle with the housekeeping. Then, she would study her lesson for church the next Sunday, and whatever schoolwork Erick had settled on after that. Once he was satisfied with the results, they would go over to where the piano and organ stood side by side. She would sing for him, mostly simple folk tunes as befitted her young, undeveloped voice. He taught her proper diction, breath support, and laid the groundwork for when her voice would need to expand both up and down. He knew better than to drive or push her, thereby damaging any potential. Erick had learned the hard way with Christine that some treasures need to be polished and held lightly, for if gripped too hard too soon, they would break and vanish. The fault would then be your own.
Some mornings he worked on violin or keyboard technique with her, having her copy to paper the simple melodies he would play to her. Others, he would have her string notes together, or finish an unfinished line. After about an hour of these games and exercises he would send her on her way to the world above. She always went alone now, for the first thing he had ever taught her were the safe ways through the maze he had built.
When she arrived there, she would slip in among the bustle of daily life. Sometimes she helped sew costumes for the ballet or chorus. Other times she would help nail scenery together and paint it. If someone needed something, she would fetch it, or deliver something for them. Katrina found her greatest earnings came in the discreet delivery of letters from one admirer to another. She became the stealthiest courier outside of the espionage circles. Her knowledge of the tunnels and trapdoors came in quite handy in these jobs.
She learned how lonely some of the opera stars were, and how much they enjoyed talking of themselves to a willing ear. She discovered how arrogant some insignificant people were, and how humble the great could be. Sometimes, it worked the other way too. Erick only smiled when she told him this.
She loved to tell him the news every night, and answer his questions about the personal workings of the house. She refused however to tell him who sent letters to whom, as mail was always a secret. He would shake his head at that, but never pressed.
The Monday after Faust, she was running down the hall with a bolt of new fabric for the seamstresses. A woman called after her, and she stopped, peering over the horrid pink and green pattern to see who wanted her. It was the woman in green.
"Jacques said you would be by soon, I'm quite surprised he knew." The woman mused, looking over the girl before her. "What is your name?"
"Katrina, Madame." She answered, shifting her load.
"A good name for you. I am not Madame, I am Mademoiselle Marie D'Arcy. Jacques hired me for the season, and said I could choose anyone I wanted to be my maid. I was forced to dismiss my other."
Katrina guessed from the clipped tones that being dismissed my Mademoiselle D'Arcy was not something good. "I am sorry for your…lost maid. Perhaps I can find a girl you would like?"
The wide mouth started to smile a little. "I have already found one. Unless you are otherwise attached, I would like to have you."
The child gripped the fabric tighter, in a valiant effort to control the bulky mess. "Me? Mademoiselle, I know nothing of dressing anyone. I can just manage my shoes," and to prove her point, she held out her footwear for inspection. Marie laughed, unable to stop herself at the droll little person before her.
"I will teach you, and it shall be alright. Really, buttons and laces are what I most need help with. Everyone says you are to be trusted, and I could use someone who keeps their word right now." Her voice sounded sad at the end, but Katrina thought it was not something she meant to show. She wasn't lonely, no. She simply needed to be reminded that there were people untouched by the world, at least that's how Uncle Erick would have put it.
"If no one has an objection, I would try," Katrina said, "do I start today?"
Marie smiled brightly, her green eyes sparkling. "Yes, as soon as we rid you of your burden."
With that, she took the bolt from the girl and returned it to its proper place. Then, she took Katrina to her dressing room, full of unpacked trunks, bags and bundles. Everything had to be put away and the containers stored with each other like the nesting dolls Uncle Erick had given her for Christmas. Katrina's shyness wore away quickly, and she began asking questions as fast as Marie could answer them. All the carefully sewn dresses were objects of great worth, the furs, jewelry, ribbons, hair nets, make-up; the toiletries were examined curiously and inquired about at great length. Marie laughed after a strange discussion about the workings of a perfume bottle.
"Surely your mother had some of these things?"
"A few, but not perfume." Katrina answered. "Though she did have a lump of something good to sniff in one of the lockets Uncle Erick sent her."
"You never asked her these questions?"
"Oh, I asked her lots. So much Auntie told me I would talk myself into nothing. Mama would just shake her head and say that clever people learn to ask the right questions. But I haven't learned the right ones yet, as I'm not as clever as Uncle Erick."
Marie suddenly thought of something. "Why do you speak of your mother in the past, Katrina?"
"Because she is. In the past. She's dead." Katrina settled the bottles carefully on the dressing table. "She and Papa were boating and fell in the water."
"I'm sorry, child. I should not have pried."
"It's not a secret, not a letter or a special surprise. Why are you sorry?" Katrina looked at the loder woman curiously.
Marie took the little girl's hand and gazed at the brown eyes. "Because, I was afraid I had made you sad, asking about your parents."
"It's only sad sometimes." Katrina said, wondering why Mademoiselle was trying not to cry. "Don't worry, I'll see them in heaven."
"Ah, can you believe in a heaven, child? It won't last long, so enjoy it."
Katrina frowned at this strange woman. "Uncle Erick says there's a heaven. He doesn't like to talk about it, but he says there's a hell too. He says he's seen enough suffering that he knows there's got to be place it goes on forever. Why shouldn't there be a place for happiness to go on forever?"
"I don't know," Marie said, wondering if Katrina's uncle knew what kind of nightmares the child would be likely to have because of this topic. What kind of upbringing did an uncle who talked of eternal torment offer a little girl? Apparently there was no aunt to soften the influence, 'Auntie' having been firmly jousted by the way the girl spoke her name.
"Well, we've unpacked. Why don't you show me where I'll rehearse?" Marie asked, breaking the subject line.
Katrina took her new patroness' hand and began the tour of the opera building.