7
Jacques wasn't sure that having a child's vote of confidence in his sanity was the best thing for his standing, particularly a child claiming to have seen the opera ghost.
Helen and Marie gaped at the child sitting coolly on the rug, a giant puppy huddled against her. Tina just kept crying. At last, the manager cleared his throat, and asked, "You've seen him?"
"Of course," Katrina said softly, "You don't have to be afraid of him."
"And why, pray tell, is that?"
"He's doing what you asked, isn't he?" The girl inquired with a businesslike tone. "It's not sensible he'd hinder his work."
At that phrase, Marie felt ill. This was not a common speech for a little one, and the uncle was to blame. She let out an angry laugh, and Helen looked at her quizzically. Katrina just buried her face against Tomino contentedly.
Seeing that no further information was coming from the girl, Jacques took Tina with him. Helen turned to her sister, a rare glare in her eyes. Marie sent her costume with Katrina to return it to the seamstresses. After she was gone, Helen rounded on the older woman. "What is going on? You've clearly lost your good sense. Do you believe in the opera ghost?"
"Of course not!"
"Then what has changed you? You look so sad and pensive; they'll write an opera about you soon if this doesn't stop."
"Not everyone is as happy or has the reasons to be happy you do, Helen." Marie snapped. "Don't ask it of me."
Throwing her red hair back, Helen sat on the chair, and scratched Tomino's ear. He rested his head contentedly in her lap. "You know perfectly well that this is the only life you wanted. If you are unhappy, then it is your own choice. What is it? You've had dreadful people around you before, and you were calm enough when we were in the auditorium. What is wrong?"
Marie's strong face crumpled. "It's Katrina." She sat across from her sister, and tears flowed down her face. "She is an orphan, and lives with a perfectly wretched uncle. I've never met him, but he must be dreadful, the things she says and does. She carries a pistol about when we leave the opera house, and knows perfectly well how to use it. In her pocket she always has a length of rope, tied in a lasso and ready to use 'in case she should need to choke a bad person who follows' were her exact words, I believe. You've heard and seen her, how different she is from other girls. She hasn't a friend outside this building, nor does she seem interested in seeking one. She's mentioned her uncle is deformed, and won't see people."
"There's your answer!" Helen cried practically. "How is she to go anyplace if her guardian can't?"
"That's not all, Helen. I have this…feeling that Erik isn't what a girl ought to live around. It's like that feeling when you go in a hospital. Nothing may be wrong really, but the feeling of sickness stays behind. That's what he feels like to me."
A loud laugh interrupted the solemn moment. "Really, Marie, please! You've never met him by your own admission. You can't feel anything about him!"
"But I can! I resent him for being the kind of man who teaches young girls to strangle people!"
Helen watched the turmoil on Marie's face for a moment. She had never seen her sister like this before. Marie had always been aloof, strong, and unapproachable. Yes, Helen could see the gentle heart beneath, but that didn't count. To the public at large, Helen had chosen her art above all else. Now that she was growing older, it had begun to sink in that she could live her life alone and without children to love her back. Inside of Marie D'Arcy was a woman who needed a family, the same as every woman.
The younger, Helen had been the less independent more emotional of the two. She thought everything was funny, thought everything was better when brought out in the open. Her love of art had taken her all over the world to paint, though she had no ambition of making it her livelihood as Marie had in singing. Helen had taken her share of the family inheritance and saved every penny she didn't invest. She taught lessons to earn her keep, and would take a few commissions to keep up her spending money. She had always assumed Marie was the greater of them, the more prepared for life, to find her sister wilting before her was terrifyingly new.
"You wish you could take Katrina." Helen said. "You should just marry someone, you've had offers."
"But none I can stand! They are such oafs, bores," She saw the sad smile tugging at Helen's face. "Besides, you know nothing at all about it."
"Sometimes," Helen said slowly, "Sometimes it is us who need to change, not the other. I turned down the man across the street, do you remember him? The one I vowed was perfect in every way? Well, at twenty I knew no one on Earth was perfect, and that he and I were certainly not fitted to spend our lives under the same roof. I wish I could say it was devastating, and he went off to die of a broken heart. But no, I'm not a Juliet, nor do I wish to be. He's now comfortably settled with a nice woman and five children. There are times I wish I were the one holding the precious little ones, but I've cast my dice, and you have cast yours. Sometimes, you can't wait for the heart to make up its mind. You must use your head and decide for it. It's time for you to decide, Marie."
When Katrina walked in, she found Mademoiselle D'Arcy weeping into Helen's shoulder. Helen smiled, and assured her that everything was fine; it had only been a long day for them. Unsure that it was the truth, Katrina went to make tea. When things didn't go right, that was what Uncle Erik did.