23

That night, Katrina dreaded the opening act. Not only was Mademoiselle Thomas' parents, patrons and tutor there, The Daroga, Darius, Madame and Helen were also. Collette rested in the dressing room during the opera, not caring to spend an extra minute near her mistress.

It was the tack that concerned the girl. She had wanted so badly to retaliate against the snotty understudy. She'd spent the whole afternoon considering the end result of her action, and had decided it was not worth it. But by then, the singer had been dressed, made up and stood ready to go out. At least box five remained empty, and she could admit to her uncle after the fact.

The prelude finished, and the curtain rose, showing the backdrop of a city and on one side, the parlor of a house. The chorus walked out, singing their hearts out, and soon the tenor and bass entered in a duet about the virtues of different women. Mademoiselle and the contralto entered, deep in discussion about the two men. Mademoiselle Thomas sat.

And nothing happened.

Shocked, and a little terrified, Katrina watched closely. No matter which way she turned, the singer apparently hadn't been impaled. Relief flooded Katrina, and she helped change the woman for the next act with more agility than ever before.

Yet, when she felt for the tack, she couldn't find it. Going through the garment ruffle by ruffle, she found only the treads that had held it there. That meant it was still onstage, waiting for a ballet girl to come pirouetting by, to be jabbed unawares.

Still, nothing happened, and when the stage hands swept the floor during intermission, Katrina felt lighter than she had for many days. The dress did have to go back on for the last scene, covered with tattered fabric, but that was of no worry now.

It was to be short lived, however.

Not only did the contralto get the greater applause, Martin had found his way to the wings and started an open questioning of the cast, beginning with Mademoiselle Thomas. Her visiting ensemble had also gone backstage to congratulate her, and found her ranting at the inspector, while the rest of the opera slipped away.

Katrina was forced to wait until she could undress the soprano, and had to witness the event. To make things even more uncomfortable, Madame D'Arcy and Helen had come back to visit with the child for a few moments, and were also watching.

"I tell you, I know nothing! I have only come to sing until that old cow comes back with the husband she tricked!" Mademoiselle Thomas shouted, furious at the now gone contralto, and at the abrupt questions she could not understand or answer. Her mask was melting, and quickly too.

"Now, now, darling," her mother soothed, "he knows that you can't possibly tell him anything." Her father nodded, staying both on the side of his daughter and out of the way.

Martin bared his teeth like a cat. "If she is here, she may know something that she thinks of no consequence. Let her speak!"

The shouting continued, and soon Madame Perrin joined in with a random, "How dare you detain a young lady!" in her overly breathy voice. She reminded Katrina of an overfed bird in a zoo, trained to respond in a pre-determined way, and really doing nothing in the end.

The Lefevres stood as though they had expected something like this sooner or later, and were resigned to the fact. Helen struck up a conversation with them out of pity, hoping to distract them.

"Do you live here in Paris?"

"No, we do not." Monsieur Lefevre said evenly.

Madame Lefevre tried to smile and introduced herself and her husband, then asked for their names. Helen gave theirs, and added Katrina's, causing the woman to open her eyes a little. "I have heard of your family, of course. Marie D'Arcy is quite a common name in our circles, and I have gradually become aware of your paintings and newspaper articles about places all ladies should see. But I was not aware that you had another generation coming up." She turned her face to the girl, who was unaware that they were discussing her.

Helen laughed, trying to ignore the discordant sounds from nearby. "No, Katrina is not a D'Arcy. We like to think of her as one, though."

"Ah, you are her patrons?"

"No, and I daren't offer. Her uncle would kill us." Madame said icily, wondering secretly if she could hit that infernal understudy on the head by throwing her cane.

"Mama!" Helen cried, looking almost hurt.

Just then, Mademoiselle Thomas declared that she was going to undress, and get some sleep, regardless of who was watching, and sat down on a bench, wriggling as she did so.

The bloodcurdling shriek with which she leapt back up was rivaled by the self-despising cry of Katrina.

The tack had been found.

The clamor was now of concern, but the little girl found and removed the offending item, showing that it was all quite easily explained. Helen was livid, as though the answer would pain her.

"Who did this?"

"I'm afraid I did." Katrina confessed. The sudden quiet was just as nerve jarring as the shouting had been.

Helen knelt and took the child's hands in her own. "But why, Katrina?"

Tears filled the girl's eyes, and spilled down her face. She refused to look up, knowing that Mademoiselle would be gloating. She looked instead at the tack, with the smallest drop of red on the tip.

"She's mean, and makes sure no one but Collette and I see. She can't sing, but says the most awful things about Marie, and hurts Collette's feelings. I'm tired of it, I'm tired of how she lords it over us, and thinks she has a right to everything! I just once wanted her to feel what she makes everyone else feel all the time."

Madame tapped her cane sharply. "You're sure your uncle didn't think of this?" At a glare from Helen, she fell silent. But Katrina shook her head.

"No, it was my fault and my idea. I never told him what she was doing, I never told anyone until now." She looked into Helen's eyes, a bluer shade of green than Marie's, and wiped her face with her sleeve, having lost her kerchief. "I tried to get here fast enough to take it out when I changed my mind, but it was too late. Then, I looked for it after the first act and it was gone. I thought after that it would be okay, but it must have just been tangled in the petticoats."

Turning and forcing herself to be brave, she looked Mademoiselle Thomas in the face, and found what she had expected. The perfect blend of wounded feelings and mocking arrogance looked down the woman's nose. "I am really sorry, and I apologize. Nothing like it will happen again."

"At least you admit it. But I'm afraid I can't have someone like you around me. You are dismissed, without reference."

"Just a minute!" Helen shouted, "She doesn't work for you, but my sister 'the old cow' and the 'husband she tricked'. You can't dismiss or harm her in any way. She was loaned to you as a favor, and you have abused it. You are really lucky her guardian doesn't know what you've been up to, or a tack would be the least of your pains."

"Ah, an orphan then, that explains it." Mademoiselle clucked flippantly.

Madame D'Arcy grew angry at that. "She is no orphan, she has a home and this is the worst offence she ever committed. At least she can see her own faults, unlike you, you painted hussy."

Turning to her patrons, jaw open is shock, Mademoiselle found that them looking on with amusement rather an indignation. Monsieur Lefevre shook his grey head. "You have brought this on yourself. We told you long ago that you are no favorite but a penance for us. A penance we happily cut off in light of what has happened."

"But, you heard me sing! Surly I am worth your patronage as an artist!"

Madame Lefevre smirked, a perfect imitation of the soprano. "My children were singers, you are a frog. You are no lady, if you can treat your maid and the maids of others in such a fashion. When you leave here, Collette will come to work for us, and you will never receive another franc or word from us."

In high fury, but understanding she was cornered, Mademoiselle stormed out, her parents and tutor following.

After a moment of silence, Martin approached the Lefevres. "I think I have botched the errand you sent me on." He stated awkwardly.

Katrina felt cold at that statement, but was relieved when Monsieur Lefevre drew out a checkbook and said heavily, "It was a whim, to see what was fable, and what was fact. You did what you were sent for, Martin. Go home, and leave the Phantom where he belongs: in myth."

Touching his forehead, Martin vanished, and Katrina never saw him again.

Helen and Madame let out sighs, and looked fondly at Katrina. It made her feel uncomfortable, but she understood and hoped she would get used to it one day.

Madame and Monsieur Lefevre shook hands, and invited the D'Arcys to come have tea after Marie returned, and to bring Katrina as well. They left, seeming quite relived to be rid of the Thomas family.

As Katrina and the two women were leaving, the temporary manager rushed up, looking quite ill.

"The worst possible news! Thomas has quit, and I've no one to replace her. I can't possibly fill her role in a week, let alone before the performance scheduled for tomorrow night!"

Madame snorted. "Do calm down, man. Simply arrange the ballet to perform for a week, and use the voices here in the opera to fill the slot."

Helen agreed. "Someone who knows the role could easily be used for such an emergency. The public would understand, and a week's delay for rehearsals is really a strain as is. Alert the papers, and send out notices, and you'll have little trouble."

"But whom shall I put in the role?" He wailed, wringing his hands.

Helen beamed, and patted his shoulder. "I'll send you a few names tomorrow."

With that they left him and walked out and along the Rue Scribe side. Madame hailed a cab, and told Helen she would wait while Katrina was returned home.

The walk in the dark went for a long time in silence. At last Katrina looked up and squeezed the woman's hand. "Thank you for believing me. I know it was a horrid thing to do."

"I've done horrid things myself, Katrina. You had the courage to admit and face whatever came your way. Never stop doing that, ever." Letting out a laugh, Helen added ruefully, "We are like family anyway, you know."

"Yes, I do," Katrina yawned. "Uncle Erik told me."

Helen paused, looking over the eerie lake. "You aren't angry are you?"

Katrina turned her great eyes up to Helen and said seriously, "No, I asked God to send love, and he sent you. Before I even asked, really. Uncle Erik said you agreed to marry him while I was away with Marie."

"I did."

"He said it wasn't easy for you."

"It wasn't." Helen bit her lip. "It isn't."

Katrina sighed and hugged the woman tightly. "Goodnight, Aunt Helen. I'll see you soon."

With that, she entered the boat, and rowed home. Helen walked rapidly up the dark passage, thinking how natural it was becoming.