Chapter Two - Seamstress or Maid?
She could hear someone speaking as she swam in the darkness, her consciousness slowly returning to her as her eyelids fluttered open. With a soft moan, she gently rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before yawning and sitting up in bed. "What a strange dream…an angel was singing me off to sleep…"
"Oh good, you're awake."
Angelique turned her head to see Madame Giry entering the room, two figures hovering behind her. Getting to her feet, she curtsied to the woman and smiled at the sight of a tray of freshly made biscuits, porridge, tea, and fruit. "Merci, Madame."
"Think nothing of it," she waved it off after setting the meal on a barren table. "Before you eat, I'd like to introduce you to the gentlemen who run the Palais Garnier." She waved for them to step forth, to which they did and stood before the girl. "This is Monsieur Richard and Monsieur Moncharmin, the managers. Monsieurs, this is the mademoiselle of which I mentioned."
"So we see," Richard noted, raising an eyebrow at the homely girl. "Madame Giry tells us you can fix clothing with ease."
"I do my best, Monsieur," she admitted humbly.
"Perhaps we can come to an agreement," Moncharmin offered, friendlier in countenance and tone than his partner. "Pick one outfit here that needs repair, and if you can fix it by the end of the day, we will hire you as a seamstress."
She nodded at the idea, her eyes shining in excitement at the prospect. "Thank you, Monsieurs, that's very kind of you-"
"Don't thank us just yet, you haven't proven yourself," Richard waved it off.
"She shall," Madame Giry said stubbornly. "I must be off, but I shall return later to check on you, my dear." Leaning towards the girl, she whispered in her ear, "Good luck" before taking off after the gentlemen, leaving Angelique alone in the room.
Heaving a sigh, she went to her meal and sat it in front of her on the bed, famished and grateful for what she had. She ate heartily, her eyes wandering about the room before they fell upon a gown that appeared to be falling apart. "Ah," she whispered, her lips stretching into a smile. "You'll do perfectly." She could see cupboards and shelves of materials coated lightly in dust, neglected for the longest time in almost a year. Setting the tray off to the side, she slipped her cloak off of her shoulders and set to work, selecting fabrics, threads, ribbons, lace, and tiny gems to repair the gown. Laying everything before her, she measured, cut, sewed, then repeated the actions as needed, the dress consuming her attention. It was not until hours later when a soft gasp at the door caused her to stop and look up from her work.
"Oh, my!" a dark-haired girl exclaimed, gaping and pointing at the nearly-finished dress with her companion. "It's absolutely lovely!"
"Thank you," Angelique smiled, chuckling at how skittish and giggly they were. "Come in if you'd like."
The two ballerinas did so, curling their fingers in delight at the gorgeous spectacle before them. "Oh, mademoiselle, would you make gowns for the rest of us? Oh, please?!" the younger begged, her eyes shining with hope at Angelique.
"I suppose I could, but I have no idea if I'll be able to. I haven't been hired just yet," she informed them as she got back to work.
"You're the lady that Maman found last night, aren't you?" the first girl spoke up, earning her attention. "Maman was right – you're amazing! The managers will hire you, you'll see," she winked knowingly.
Smiling sweetly at the girls, she said, "You're both very kind…what are your names?"
"I'm Meg Giry and this is little Jammes," the ballerina explained.
"I'm not that little, I'm just a year younger than you!" Jammes pouted, earning a laugh from the seamstress.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both. My name is Angelique," she introduced herself with a nod of her head.
"Mademoiselle Angelique, won't you come join us for dinner? And supper afterwards?!" Jammes asked excitedly.
"Well, if I could finish this gown-"
"She must finish the dress first, silly, then when Monsieurs Moncharmin and Richard officially hire her, she can come with us," Meg scolded the girl. Curtsying to the older girl, she beamed and added, "Don't worry, we'll bring you something to eat – might we used that tray you left? You keep at it, we'll be back soon."
"Merci, ladies," she winked at them, grateful to have some friends. She watched them scurry away before giggling herself and selecting another gem to add to the bodice of the gown. "Just a little more stitching by the collar, and then…ah!" Setting the needle and excess thread aside, she got to her feet and stepped back, admiring her work. The gown shimmered in a soft gold hue, with subtle touches of lace and precious sequins adorning the outfit in the right places. Her stitches were so well done that the gown appeared to have come in one piece. The skirt billowed out from the narrow bodice, their sleeves puffed out just so, but not too much, and with a sweet little bow made from a velvet ribbon upon the collarbone the ensemble was complete.
Flexing her fingers, she couldn't help but smile at how the gown had come out. Elated that she had finished by dinnertime, she tapped her finger against her cheek as a notion came to mind. "You need a partner," she murmured, starting off back to the cabinets. Humming softly, she began to pick out a rich cobalt material when she heard another voice humming along with her, as if echoing in harmony with her. Her brows furrowed as she looked about, wondering who could be in the room. She walked towards the door, wondering if perhaps a man was close by, poking her head into the hall.
Not a single soul stood outside or nearby, causing her to raise an eyebrow at the incident. "Odd," she muttered, entering the room once more and shaking her head as she returned towards the worktable and materials. "I must be imagining things…" She stopped in her tracks, her eyes falling upon a piece of parchment that lay upon the fabric she had selected not moments ago.
"Where did this come from…?" she whispered, her fingers outstretched. She cautiously picked up the paper and found herself staring wide-eyed in awe at the design of an elegant, handsome, and smartly drawn suit, the perfect accompaniment for the gown she had created. "Oh my," she breathed, a soft smile stretching over her chapped lips as she gazed upon the beautiful concept before her. "It's perfect-"
"We brought some stew and bread, Mad'moiselle Angelique," Jammes called out as she and Meg stepped back into the room with a tray full of steaming food that made her mouth water.
Her head turned to see them enter, her mind still spinning from questions that constantly prodded at her. "Oh, thank you," she said, still holding the design in her hands. "Girls…the strangest thing has just happened."
"What's that?" Meg asked, placing the meal upon a little table by the bedside.
"Oooh! Meg, look! The dress is finished!" Jammes squealed, clapping in delight as she saw the dress restored to a glorious new being.
"I just finished the last details and decided to start a second project," Angelique explained, smiling shyly as the girls gawked from her to the dress and back. Her brows furrowed again, however, at the memory of what had happened, her smile fading. "As I went to get more materials I was humming, and then I heard someone humming along…I could have sworn it was a man."
The girls exchanged glanced, their faces paling, their eyes widening.
"I went to the door to check and see what was going on, but there was no one out in the hall. When I came back, I found this on the bolt of cloth I'd chosen." She showed them the elaborate sketch, hoping for answers. "It's the strangest thing…I don't suppose you know who did this, do you? Apparently, they write in red ink." "And almost impossible for me to read – this looks as if it were scribbled down as quickly as possible."
"It's him," Meg whispered, stepping away from the painting as if it were cursed.
"'Him'? 'Him' who?" she echoed, curious to know what all the drama was about.
"The…the Phantom of the Opera!" little Jammes gasped, looking over her shoulder at once, her eyes darting to and fro.
"The what?" Angelique asked, making a face of confusion.
"The Opera Ghost, he haunts the Palais Garnier!" Jammes insisted. "You must have heard of him!"
"I'm afraid I haven't," she shook her head. "I fell asleep right away when I came in last night, and I got to work at once this morning, so no, I'm afraid I haven't a clue what you're talking about."
Meg opened her mouth to speak when the booming voice of Richard perpetrated the air and the two managers entered the room.
"Busy, are we?" sneered Richard, not amused at all that the dancing girls were distracting the stray from her work.
"Mon Dieu, it's fantastic!" exclaimed Moncharmin, his eyes growing large at the sight of the gown. A delighted smile stretched upon his face as he tapped incessantly upon his friend's shoulder. "Just look at it!"
"What are you talking about-? Sacre Bleu!" Richard took a step back to admire the work she had done, and in spite of himself, he felt his jaw drop. "I…I'm rather impressed."
The ballet girls wrung their hands anxiously as they awaited the managers' final decision, biting their lips and holding their breath. Angelique felt her heart thumping violently within her chest as she waited, daring to hope that they might say…
"Mademoiselle, we would be delighted if you would stay here and work as our new seamstress," Moncharmin beamed, elated that his partner was so dumbstruck he was still staring at the gown in awe. "I don't believe I've ever known anyone who could recreate such a lovely and complicated costume in such a short amount of time. The previous seamstress passed away months ago from what we were told, and since we are fairly new here, with all the responsibilities and…" He exchanged a look with Richard, who now had his full attention on Angelique, "…recent events…we haven't had the time to search one out. Won't you stay? You'll receive your pay upon completing each new costume and restoring it to its proper glory."
She curtsied to them, a glowing smile on her face. "It would be my honor, Monsieurs. Thank you so very much!"
"Don't thank us just yet," Richard held up a finger, his brows furrowing. "If you are truly committed to working here in the Opera Garnier, you must be willing to complete one other task since Madame Giry has gone into town for the day and has yet to return."
"And what is that, sirs?" she asked, stunned by their sudden solemn state.
"…you must prepare Box Five for tonight's performance."