A/N: Yikes, over a month since my last update here! I do apologise, but a lack of the mood necessary had impaired my ability to delve back into fanfiction.
Once rehearsals were over for the day and the costume fittings were completed, Mignon rushed back to her flat. She couldn't contain her excitement at the prospect of spending the evening relaxing and reading the diary she'd written over the years. It would be so nice to know what her life had been like before she'd come to Paris! She held high hopes that the words she'd committed to those pages would help jar her memory. There was far too much that was a mere blur to her mind's eye.
She sighed with relief once she was out of her corset and all those petticoats. The simple dress she wore to lounge around in was a welcome change. Just as she was settling in with a cup of strong tea, there was a knock at the door.
She let out an exasperated huff of air and smoothed her skirt before opening the door. 'Whoever this is had better have a good reason for interrupting my one quiet evening at home. I need my rest so I can perform tomorrow!'
"Raoul?! What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise. With the way he'd acted the last evening they'd spent together, she hadn't expected to see him so soon, if ever again.
"I've come to take you to supper, of course! A little celebration before your return to the stage. I was calling after you, but you left the opera house in such a hurry, I suppose you didn't hear me. You certainly must be feeling better to have gotten here so fast! I could scarcely keep up with you," he teased.
"I wanted to get home quickly because I . . . I wasn't feeling well," she fibbed.
His face fell, betraying his concern for her health. "I'll fetch a doctor for you, then," he offered.
"No! No, that won't be necessary." Thinking quickly, she continued with something he would have to believe. "I mean I was tired. From rehearsing all day. That's all. I shall be fine for tomorrow's performance."
"Then what you need is food," he insisted. "Come, I'll take you to my townhouse! My servants will see to it that you rest and have anything you desire."
"No, Raoul," she countered a bit too harshly. She shook her head at her own actions. "That is, I'm not hungry. And it wouldn't do for me to have a heavy meal the night before a performance. Really, it's sweet of you to be concerned, but I just want to rest." She made a show of stifling a yawn. "Good evening, M. le Vicomte."
He opened his mouth to protest that she could surely sleep better in one of his guest bedrooms, with someone to attend to her needs, but found that she had already shut the door. He was growing increasingly frustrated at doors being closed in his face!