12

The performance was well attended, sadly, not for the sake of the music.

Word of the great tenor's death, rumors of the phantom, and the usual sordid stories that go with the arts had attracted quite a number of people. Most of them were wealthy patrons, desperate to be sure their interest in the opera house had not been a waste. Some were there from curiosity or a morbid fascination.

Katrina peered from the wings, where she was waiting with Helen to help Marie with her costume changes, the regular dresser having been taken ill that afternoon. She could see the Daroga in the manager's box, watching without expression. Her eyes flicked to Box 5, where she knew Uncle Erik was looking over the events of the evening. She could not see him, but she could catch a bit of that feeling she got when he was watching her at home. Oh yes, Erik was watching.

Helen let out a humph, and shook out a frilly cloak. "Why is this necessary? Surly a simple shawl would have done just as well?"

Katrina turned her big eyes on the older woman. "She turns so often in the second aria, the flounces show it off. Besides, a shawl doesn't look as rich as the fake lace. She'll have a shawl after the count throws her out, to fend for herself and sell her soul."

Pausing to give Katrina a funny look Helen shook her head. "It's not her soul she sells, dear. But tell me, what opera doesn't have a woman thrown out, or misunderstood?"

"Martha," Said the girl with certainty. "She runs away and pretends to be a maid, the better to find her way." Helen decided to see if Erik would allow her to loan the child something besides a music score to read. Hang Erik, she'd just loan the book and take her deserts!

The overture started, and Katrina's eyes were instantly on the harpist, a tiny fellow who played with his whole heart. She often had trouble seeing him from her uncle's box, as he had always been hidden behind his large instrument. The child wondered if Erik had written any harp music. Helen wondering if the girl were a little addled by living underground with a yellow skinned skeleton, to sit so still for the sake of sound.

The tenor, now returned from exile in the chorus, did his job credibly and with fervor, knowing only an occasional visiting star would oust him from his position now. Marie sang with an agitation only evident to her sister, and possibly the Persian. All the patrons breathed a sigh of relief after the first half, and the sensation seekers felt a trifle cheated that no one fell down dead on the stage.

Katrina disappeared for a few moments, and was found my Marie and Helen in the dressing room. She was struggling under the weight of two bundles of roses, one yellow, and one blue. Laughing at the sight, Helen rushed to help her.

"Oh, you must have a proposal tonight, Ria! Just look at the size of them."

"They are not the common kind of gift, they were specially ordered." Marie said sharply. "What do you know about this, Katrina?"

The girl shook her head, the wild curls bouncing franticly. "I didn't until Uncle Erik gave them to me and said I was to bring them here."

Helen was instantly subdued, and Marie took the card from the yellow bunch, and read aloud;

"Mademoiselle D'Arcy, I wish to congratulate you on the competent performance this evening.My opinion of you is highly improved, and I am pleased my niece is looked after by so strong a personage.Yours, Erik."

Taking the other card, she read:

"Mademoiselle Helen, My thanks for the aid you have given with my niece and the chance you have taken.Yours, Erik."

The sisters looked at each other, totally puzzled. Katrina's face was absolutely comical. It varied from elated, to horrified, to hopeful, to amused and started all over again. When the silence grew too great for her, she finally spoke her mind.

"Will he marry one of you to give me an aunt?"

The roses fell to the floor, and the sisters turned to the child, each hoping the other would think of a suitable reply. Thankfully, Katrina's active brain filled in the gaps on its own.

"I suppose he would start for both of you, and he's only met Helen. That means she'll be my aunt if he continues it. But no, he'd have said something to me about it, and he never did. I suppose he's only thanking you after all." The idea seemed to disappoint her as much as it relived the women.

Gathering up the dropped bundles, they found vases large enough for them, and hurried to prepare for the next half. There was some time yet, but Marie was not in a mood to sit still for long. When Katrina went for the next costume, the older woman turned to Helen. "What did he mean, 'chance you have taken'?"

"Nothing," Helen said, cheerfully.

"Helen," Marie pressed, "I know you are hiding something, so tell."

Turning her rotund face to her sister, Helen sighed deeply. "I'm afraid there is nothing to tell. Katrina and her uncle have had sad lives. I suppose it meant my understanding the night I took her home."

Marie could see tears in her sibling's eyes, and hurried over. "Oh, you can tell me, Helen. No one's here, please tell me!"

"I can't! I'm sorry, Marie, but I gave my word I wouldn't. If it were just a matter of confiding, you know I'd have said everything long ago. But Katrina's happiness is in the balance, and I will not do anything to injure that precious, precious child!"

With that flat declaration, Marie knew further questions were useless. She kissed her sister, and said gently, "If you ever find need of an ally, I am here, Helen. You know this."

Nodding, the younger woman patted the long slender hand resting on her sleeve. "Of course I do. We have always been two bolts of lighting, haven't we? You just boom and crack, and make people take notice. I rattle and worry 'em until they aren't sure what to make of it."

"Lightning yourself. I'm a whole rainstorm, dearie."

Katrina's light step was heard then, and so they dried their eyes and prepared for the rest of the night.