18
Marie stepped out of the carriage and eyed the opera house. It had been over seven months since she had left it to tour, and it was with mixed emotions she returned.
About five weeks after the masquerade, she had made the decision to travel in the off season, and wanted Katrina to come along as maid. Helen went completely pale at the suggestion, and started to shake. She had heard what the Phantom had done over Christine, whose affections he had no certainty of. What would he do to Marie, to all of them, if Katrina were taken?
"Oh, Marie, you have no idea what you're asking! You just can't!"
Madame D'Arcy had, for once, seemed of the same mind. "You can't drag her all over the globe, catching heaven knows what! Marie, do be sensible!"
That was when Helen did something she desperately disliked. She went on her first official visit to Erik. Katrina had schooled her in a simple route to the House on the Lake, and she took it as firmly as she could. She kept her hand at eye level, which aided in shedding the light of the lantern before her feet. The way led in through the back of the house, and she knocked out of habit rather than courtesy before entering.
She found Erik standing near the organ, looking somewhat puzzled at her arrival, if she read his face right. Helen found him difficult to look at, let alone comprehend what his expression was.
"Since you have come alone, I think there is something amiss." He pointed to a chair, which she took gratefully. "I trust it is not Katrina?"
"No, well not exactly, she's not hurt."
He perched on the organ bench, and waited silently.
As soon as she had her breath back, Helen explained her sister's plan. "Nothing," she finished, "Has been said to Katrina herself yet. I thought perhaps you would want a say in it before Marie turned her head. We all love the child, but I feared that…well, she is your niece, not ours."
"You feared I would be angry." He answered. "Tell me, would you be going?"
"Not that I had planned. In reality, I don't plan very far ahead, Monsieur. A tour is beyond me."
He turned his back on her and picked up a stack of music, written in red and black ink. The scrawled notes where clearly in his own distinctive hand and the papers were covered with them. He began to play, a low, haunting melody that had gentle notes soaring above it. Clearly intended for more than one instrument, he managed it perfectly on the ponderous organ. "She most certainly would be with your sister, and no one else?"
"Not to my understanding." Helen said, transfixed by the sight of those knotted, yellow, and emaciated hands moving almost lazily over the keys. His feet moved so naturally over the pedals, that had she not be near, she would not have noticed them lifting and dropping.
The sound stopped, and it felt like something had been pulled out of her very soul. The absence of the music was an almost physical pain.
"In this, I am inclined to agree with you and your mother. Katrina is but eight years old, and a strange child even to my mind. Yet, I cannot hold her here forever. No, I will not err with her as I did with Christine. My niece's soul is truly the fairer one, but even it will not survive on music alone. She must learn to be outside, in the sun, among others. If your sister will vow to never lose sight of her, and to write me every week as to the child's welfare and spirit, I will let Katrina go. But this will be the only time; never again will I consent to her going on a tour, which must be made clear."
Helen was dumbstruck, "You are certain? You will send her away?"
"No!" The voice thundered. "I will never 'send her away' unless her life depends on it. I am allowing her to accompany your sister on one tour, so that she can understand something of the outside world. I will not live forever; I must take steps now to teach her to survive without me."
The woman sat back, quite shocked. "To be honest, I half expected you to plaster over the doors and vanish."
A sneer crossed his face. "And I never thought you would come alone. But, Katrina does something to those she looks at. They never seem the same again."
"It seems to be a family trait," Helen quipped.
"Take care; once a woman sees me without a mask, she belongs to me." He said wearily, though no doubt the warning was serious. "The day may come when I summon you."
So, Marie had left, Katrina in tow. Helen joined them for the first few cities, helping Katrina keep a journal of the places and people she saw. The sisters took care to write detailed letters to the uncle, which the child enclosed with her own.
Madame wrote her daughters for a couple of months, the usual letters full of orders, gossip, and prying questions. After that, her correspondence became infrequent, and somewhat vague in nature. Marie was inclined to pass it off as the fault of the neighbor, but Helen had other suspicions she dared not voice, and wrote nothing of it when she returned home.
To a child, tours can be magical, albeit, endless. Katrina adapted well, although Helen would find her scrubbing her eyes, and saying it was only the bright lights, or perhaps sleeping with Erik's letters instead of a pillow. If Marie saw these signs, she said nothing. Tomino had to be left behind, and the absence of beloved guardian and the pup together made her more introspective than usual.
The tour had been a success, garnering support for the Paris Opera in the next season. Marie had little to regret as she looked on the somber grey stones. Yet, there was always that feeling of a shadow one couldn't shake.
Katrina had no such qualms. She had tumbled out after her mistress, and grabbed her bags by any strap that was closest. "May I go home, Mademoiselle? Do you need me anymore today?"
At the sight of those eager, anxious brown eyes, Marie couldn't help but smile. "Go, go. I'll have Jacques send someone to help me. You've been waiting very patiently, and I can't bear to hold you up any longer."
The girl needed no second bidding. She tore off, around the corner of the opera, a flurry of wild hair and skirts.
Marie watched impassively as the workers set her things back in the dressing room. One of them handed her a message from her mother as they left. It simply asked her to come for tea, and refusal was not an option.
Wearily, she began unpacking, and only glanced up as Jacques walked in. "I am surprised you waited this long to come say hello." She said coolly.
He leaned against the dresser, and crossed his arms. "I was glad you consented, but surprised. May I ask the reason?"
"We are alike; we have no reason to stay off any longer. My life has been the theater, always. It is time I added something else."
"You do not distrust my motives?"
"On the contrary, I think yours are the best I have met for years. If it becomes an issue, I will simply quit. Oh, don't look at me like that! You know as well as I do that tours every year and the occasional appearance will more that make up for the loss of my voice in your opera."
The manager thought for a moment. "You are sure of this? I do not mind, little will change for me either way. It is for your sake and sanity I insist you reconsider as many times as is needed. There is no rush, and it will not be made public without your consent."
Marie straightened herself and crossed her arms. The yellow travel dress complemented her red hair, and the trip had brought some girlish color back into her slender face. Jacques thought she looked regally imposing, though he wished she would smile more often.
"I assure you, I have considered. I will not change my mind. Tell the world, it will be good for the opening of the season."
"This is not a business arrangement!"
"Who else will see it that way? Your precious Phantom?" She dropped her hands and sighed. "I have had much time to consider, and I no longer care what people think. It is time for me to behave more like a woman, and less like a stubborn schoolgirl who thinks she has something to prove."
Jacques stood and nodded. "Very well. I shall write the necessary papers, and trouble you as little as possible with it. In the desk you will find the list of roles for this season. You know where to find me if you have any questions."
He turned; shoving his hands into his pockets, then stopped and went back to Marie. "I nearly forgot, this is for you." Pressing a little box into her hand, he gave her fingers a squeeze and left.
Marie sat down and held the box numbly for a long time. She remembered tea, and hurried to get to her mother's house in time. She noticed the gentleman neighbor sitting on his step, clearly enjoying the day, and having no concern whatsoever with anyone around him.
Tea was ready and set out when Marie walked in. She noticed Helen and Madame sitting somberly and gazing at the teapot.
"Have I kept you waiting?"
Madame jumped a little, but shook her head. "No, my girl. We weren't sure what time you would even be able to pull away. Sit down, and tell us how the last part of your trip fared."
Marie shrugged and started pulling her gloves off slowly. "It went much like the part Helen attended. Katrina couldn't wait to get home, so I gave her the day off. I'm assuming this little tête-à-tête has a purpose behind it?"
Helen dropped her sugar cubes meticulously into her cup. "Just some news…but you wrote me that you had some news of your own. Tell us yours first."
The singer leaned back and held up her left hand. A simple ring with three pale stones caught the light. "I have agreed to marry Jacques. You will both be able to see more of me now."
The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes before anyone moved.
Madame cleared her throat. "Are you sure about this Marie? He hardly seems exciting enough, and rather spacious in the head, though I've no other objections to him."
"I am quite sure. I have had the exciting and brilliant offers, but that was part of their fault. Jacques makes no pretensions about himself, as superficial as he can be. It is time I changed myself."
Helen set her cup down and took her sisters hands. For once, she wasn't laughing. "But are you sure, Marie, really, really sure?"
The older sister smiled gently. "A very wise woman once said to me, 'Sometimes, you can't wait for the heart to make up its mind. You must use your head and decide for it. You cast your dice.' I decided to take her advice for once." Shaking off the mood, Marie asked, "Now, what news did you all have."
The others exchanged glances, and Helen shook her head. "Tomorrow. I'd much rather go to Marcel's for that splendid chocolate cake and wonderful champagne! After all, you're home safe and you've just gotten engaged! Mama, we'll have to plan, oh dear heaven's what are we to do?"
Madame shook her head darkly. "There are times I think you are more of a child than Katrina, Helen