Hello everyone! I know I was supposed to update this story on Sunday, but I've been behind on all my updates because of college planning and stuff like that. So I hadn't really been able to write. Sorry for my lateness :(. I hope you enjoy the update and thank you to those who reviewed! And btw, today anyway is a very symbolic day to me, since today was the day when I actually first started to watch Phantom! :D (yes, I do remember the exact day) Anyway, hope you enjoy!
Chapter IV: The Story of the Phantom
"No, absolutely not!"
"Monsieur Reyer," Theresa started, following him into the orchestra pit and getting off the empty stage. Everyone was either eating during this short break or talking about their gossip from the ball still. It was a few days before they would all perform Macbeth and it took a while for Theresa to be brave enough to confront Reyer about her different sound. They hadn't been rehearsing her scenes all that much, but she was practising day and night to perfect it in the matter of days. Theresa tried to sing the aria she would sing for her encore, but how the composer wrote it was not what she would want for her début.
How she remembered the music going for the encore, didn't match up with her.
'What the composer writes is not in stone,' she was told once. Theresa was hoping that they would change not the notes, but the tempo and the dynamics, making it more piano when it was supposed to be mezzo forte. She continued to him, with no idea what she was going into with confronting him, (though she still didn't expect it to still go down hill like it was going now) "It's not the whole opera, it's one aria. An aria that is my encore. All I am asking is if we could look over the score to make the second time I'll sing it different from the first. Like... making it more interesting for the audience."
Reyer breathed in evenly and placed his baton on his stand. He looked over at Theresa and stated, trying not to show his agitation at the moment, "Normally I would allow it, but it's only three days before the show! It is impossible for us to perfect changes to the music for that amount of time."
She corrected for him positively, "Monsieur, nothing is impossible."
"Then, excuse me, improbable! It is extremely unlikely that we'll perfect them even if we tried. It's unheard of to do last minute changes with them working right away. We've rehearsed them how it is, next time we'll make changes to the music, but now, no!" Theresa's shoulders slumped exasperated and found that this was all useless. He had a point, there would not perfect it in time, it was indeed improbable.
"I understand, I am sorry for bothering you about it," her voice at first was defeated, but when she was about to turn around a voice she thought to be in her head told her, 'Don't quit, you are more than right.' Theresa's mouth parted when she had heard how familiar that voice sounded and she looked to Reyer, adding, "but," Reyer sighed loudly, being caught mid-step.
He turned around with his face twisted with annoyance, he wanted to go on his own break, not stay and deal with her. She didn't continue, going through the right words in her head before actually doing so. She said 'but' more on impulse rather than thinking through it before saying it out loud.
Reyer repeated, "But?"
She breathed in, carefully stating to him, "We'll do it in sections, start with the weakest players in each section and then the strongest, then we'll do it together."
"That will take all day, mademoiselle, all day!"
Theresa told him calmly, "Then we'll work all day."
"We cannot just stop everything else for your benefit, mademoiselle," he told her in a rather icy, cold tone. It didn't bother Theresa, she was expecting some of this meeting for him, which was why she had talked to the other performers before actually going to him. "What would the dancers and the other performers say about this?"
"All taken care of," she insisted to him, earning a bit of confusion back. Reyer raised his eyebrow at her as she explained, "I had talked to Madame Giry to take the dancers to rehearse their steps without the music to see if they got their timing right," which was hard to do. Like Monsieur Reyer, she had said no at first, but somehow, some way, Theresa got her to say yes after persuading her. It was still a blur, though it was only this morning since she had spoken to her. "Monsieur D'Aubigne, our Macbeth, also had agreed to this. He told me he needed more practice with the final scene anyway. He never fully got to understand the choreography of the sword fight between him and Monsieur Blair, so he would like to do that."
"So, you've asked everyone else before you came to me?" He asked sceptically. Theresa didn't know if she should nod to him, but she did, and slowly, too. "So you were anticipating that I would say yes?" Yes, her mind admitted, but she didn't want to make it seem like she had done that. Not at all.
When she was about to answer honestly, a voice told her to, 'Lie.' It was too clear to be in her mind, but it was soft since it was only her that actually heard it. Reyer didn't even flinch at the sound of it. Theresa suddenly felt that she was going insane since the night of the ball, seeing that man on the roof with her, made herself seem crazy. The velvet voice that was cold and icy there... matched the voice that just spoke to her. Only, it wasn't cold and icy... it sounded more advising to her if anything different. Did that really make sense? To her, even though it was what she thought, it didn't.
She shrugged it off, thinking that he was only a part of her imagination that got the best of her, but it wasn't. It was far too real for it to be. Theresa still felt the leather brushing up on her hand as she gave him the ring and she remembered how intense his look was on her when she had left the rooftop that night. His eyes, his mask, his dark clothes... she remembered it all vividly, even the sound of his scowl that seemed to match the voice now. How could she imagine him if he was vividly there?
But she had to have imagined him... maybe she was delusional on that roof. She did drink too much wine when she went up there.
She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, before speaking again. "Not at all, I only was preparing for if you do say yes. I was hoping, not at all anticipating." Her voice was shaking as she spoke. She was never good at lying.
The same voice stated to her almost with some humour, 'You're a terrible liar,' it almost startled her again of how clear it sounded to her again. Especially since it was almost like it read her thoughts before. Reyer looked at her for a moment, before shaking his head, making Theresa's shoulders slump again. "You have gone through so much trouble doing this, but I apologize. The answer is still no, mademoiselle."
"Fine, that's fine." Theresa nodded, understandingly. "I just wanted to ask you... to see if it is okay, but I understand completely. Thank you for your time."
She turned on her heel again and went to walk away once again, but the voice came back to her and more annoyed, too.'You're a Prima Donna, act like it!' Theresa raised her eyebrow, well how would one act? Her eyes scanned for the man that had been speaking with her, thinking that he must be closer to her to have his voice come to her clearly, but she couldn't find that figure at all.
This man must be haunting her, she was hearing voices now. He wasn't real though... he was a delusion. Yes, she was imagining him that night. Even if he was a figment of her imagination, she decided to follow his advice. She held her head up strong, coming up with an idea. She told him with her back to him, in a strong, determined tone, "It is my début though," Reyer stopped where he was, hearing that tone coming from her.
His experience with Prima Donnas had told him that this tone was not good. Not a tone that would result in the managers being at all happy with him. He turned on his heel as she slowly did the same to face him, with her voice determined as well as her eyes and her face hard as stone. The warm colour that was there before disappeared and her hazel eyes were more dark than before. "I want to show what I am truly made of, monsieur. But with only three days to the gala, I think that wouldn't be much time to get a new soprano by the reopening. And it would be terrible if you didn't have a replacement for me, wouldn't it? The managers would love hearing the reason behind my sudden leave."
Theresa didn't mean to say what she said... it wasn't her intention to sound so harsh. Would that be what a Prima Donna would say? She questioned unsure. For a moment, Reyer stood there unmoving and as the time elapsed, the face on Theresa began to fall from being hard to soft. She had the strangest feeling that he had dealt with this before, this would be the last time she would be rude like that. But soon he nodded with a loud sigh, Theresa used all her restraint to not show how shocked she was from it. "I'll do as my diva commands," he told her.
Diva? Theresa's eyes widened, a diva? She hadn't even made her début to the public yet and already he was calling her a diva... a star. She gulped, feeling something overwhelm her. She tried to smile at him, though it was hard, she was too forceful and already she felt the guilt. "If it doesn't work, Monsieur Reyer, we'll keep the music as is, I tell you. It would be just as the composer will write it as, I promise." The guilt for some reason made her take back her words before, she didn't mean to make it sound that she wanted to leave if it didn't go her way, even though that was what she had said before...
She continued before she could stop herself, "I wasn't going to leave if you say no, I wasn't, in fact if you don't want to, I'll understand. If you are worried—."
She was cut off by the low, harsh scowl that was so clear and so familiar that it sent chills up her spine, 'You fool, this could go the wrong way for you now.' Theresa shook it off, though her body visibly tensed and became stiff. She wasn't fearful, she was more worried, not only did she hear her mother's voice, but now she heard a man's voice that she hadn't known the owner of. She added to what she was being said before, but in a more slower pace. "Then you mustn't have to go through with it, I wasn't going to leave... if you based your decision off of that then I—."
Monsieur Reyer interrupted her, chuckling at her being baffled, "You are far too humble, mademoiselle." He meant it as a compliment to her, but Theresa had cast her eyes downward. But what he said made a smile known on her, she looked back up. "But I will tell you, we will see what changes we could make together while we look over the score."
'Maybe you aren't as naïve as I imagined, signora.' There was the voice again! But instead of it being harsh it sounded more impressed, it didn't dismay her, like she... expected it would do again. Suddenly a surge of excitement ran through her, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She said to Monsieur Reyer going up to him quickly and hugging him tightly to her. Reyer knitted his eyebrows together in slight confusion and his reluctance made him pat her back and try to grin awkwardly. She moved back with her mood boosted up, "You will not regret this, monsieur, I will assure you. You will not!"
Reyer chuckled lightly and nodded, "Let us hope that no regret will become of this, mademoiselle."
"I don't need to hope, I know." She told him reassuringly.
Reyer grinned and nodded, "Then we'll see if you know after your break from rehearsal, when you are done come back in here and we'll get started with what you think you want to do and we'll look over it with the musicians, how is that?"
"Perfect." Theresa stated to him, not dropping her smile. Her mind was clear and she turned on her heel quickly to go to where most of the performers were.
There was a room for eating, it wasn't the kitchen, neither a dining room, it was more of a small room that could fit thirty people at a time. Theresa's mind kept dwelling on the fact that her idea was in the works, the gears in her head was working on what she wanted to do. Now, she didn't know notes for a violinist or a flautist or a horn player, nor did she know what dynamics worked with the three types, but she did happen to have a conductor helping her with this.
It was a long walk, it seemed, but she knew it wasn't. The pace she was going was slow and steady. Her mind wandered too often and her eyes were wandering just as much as her mind was. She heard the chatter of many people growing closer and louder as it did. She must have been close and her ears were starting to ring, someone told her that would usually mean someone was talking about her. She shrugged it off not really minding it and entered in the room, smelling the sweet food.
Whatever the chef made for their lunch today smelled delicious. With a smile still on her face, she made her way toward the counter where Chef Dupant was talking with a maid. All that was left were two bowls and a piece of bread, the warmth of it could be smelt, it must have been fresh. Theresa didn't recognize the maid, only being in the opera house for at least two weeks, she hadn't met much of the help. Theresa looked around to see only one table with people actually huddled around it. She raised her eyebrow, but didn't inquire, but she had seen Henri and Emile among them.
When she approached Dupant and the maid, the chef turned toward her with an elated smile, "Ciao, signora," he stated, he had been talking to her in Italian, since he knew the language himself very well actually from doing training with a chef there. It was a refresher of back home and to speak some of her native language with him wasn't a way for her to have her thoughts wander to Naples. He started this in the beginning of the week, she didn't know much French except for the essentials. It was nice to talk like she had usually, instead of English or French, or whatever language the great country that the French reside in spoke!
"Ciao, signore, come è la vostra giornata oggi?" She asked him with a strange sparkle in her eyes, probably from her hunger or that she was still happy about how her meeting went with Reyer. She really couldn't decide at all.
The heavy-set Frenchman replied with a nod, "Good, come è la vostra giornata oggi, signora?"
She chuckled and nodded, "Exceptional."
Dupant looked at her doubtfully with his grin turning crooked, "Exceptional, mademoiselle?" Theresa nodded quickly as Dupant took the olive oil and balsamic vinegar with a small plate to accompany it out. The maid by them looked Theresa over dimly, not speaking a word to her nor introducing herself. She didn't notice the look, being completely oblivious of it and dazed from the previous events. She couldn't wait to tell at least someone! Dupant chuckled lightly, "You went from nervous to exceptional in all but a few hours, mademoiselle, tell me what has changed your mood?"
Her smile became broader and she stated to him, "You mustn't tell a soul, Dupant."
He seemed a bit taken back by that and raised his eyebrow, but nevertheless he nodded unsure. He assured, "Not a soul."
"I talked to Monsieur Reyer today and asked him if it would be okay if we look over the score together to see if we could change some of the details for the aria that I would be singing for the encore," if the audience asks for it, she thought. Hopefully they were, every Prima Donna she had heard of did have an encore. Her voice became hushed, she still didn't notice that the maid was eying her dimly. She continued to him, "and at first he refused it—."
"Well, that doesn't sound so happy, mademoiselle." Dupant interjected with a chuckle.
Theresa rolled her eyes and tried not to sound annoyed when she stated to him, "Well, if you didn't interrupt me then let me finish," Dupant could hear the impatience in her tone and his grin grew, nodding. "Anyway, what had happened was that I somehow managed to get him to say yes! It took heavy persuasion, though, mind you," she saw a look on Dupant's face that he seemed not as excited as she was about like she actually was. "Don't look at me like that. It's exciting!"
Dupant poured the oil and the vinegar into the small plate and nodded, telling her sarcastically, "Of course it is, I'm shivering just from the excitement down to my boots!"
She shook her head, "You don't have to fake your excitement for me."
Dupant told her, pushing the bowl of soup and bread with the small plate toward her, "If music was my passion then believe me, then I will be more than excited for you, but my passion isn't that." Theresa frowned, though the amusement in her eyes visibly showed to him. Dupant pointed to the food, "I made your favourite today, mademoiselle, pasta fagioli, I dug up the recipe from my days in Italy and thought that today would be the day that you will get to try mine."
Theresa's eyes widened and a smile was curving on her lips, she thanked him excitedly, "Grazie, monsieur! If it weren't for you, I don't think my day could've gotten any better."
"No problem, signora," he replied with a slight nod to her. That was when the maid cleared her throat to have the attention brought to her. The two looked over and Theresa laid eyes on the petite blonde girl that couldn't be no more than eighteen years of age. She was pretty, her face held innocence as well did her brown eyes, that were big and round. "Oh, how rude of me!" Dupant stated, putting his hand on his forehead. He placed a hand on the maid's shoulder as both Theresa and her took in each other. "Signora Baccelli, this is Bernadette. She is one of the best maids in the house!"
"Oh," Bernadette started rather modestly, a flash of red crossed her cheeks as she looked down at the ground, "I wouldn't say that, monsieur."
"Why not, mademoiselle? It is very much true!" Bernadette shook her head head no and crossed her arms over her chest, throwing a glare at him. Dupant laughed at her teasingly and continued to Theresa whose smile actually grew just watching them, "She is much like you, signora, sweet and kind. You two could be really good friends."
Bernadette smiled lightly at Theresa and curtsied to her, "It's a pleasure to meet you, made—."
Theresa cut her off with the bow of her head, "Theresa, please... call me Theresa, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Bernadette." Bernadette nodded back at her and Theresa then looked at the two of them, "Well, I should really get to my meal. Grazie, Dupant, you really didn't have to make this for me, especially since it probably has taken all morning to make it."
"Ah, but it's very much worth it, mademoiselle. I wanted to make it again some day anyway." Theresa chuckled and nodded to him. She then took her meal into her hands to make her way to the table that wasn't huddled at all. But she kept a careful eye on it, her ears caught traces of the conversation as she did. Reaching the table, she placed her meal onto it, still staring. The tones quieted down once she had arrived, but they were loud enough to reach her. She sat down, taking her bread in her hands and dipping it into the oil unconsciously.
When she had taken a bite out of her bread, Henri and Emile looked over to see her. They weren't sure if they should smile at her and wave her over or go to them. The gossip about the Phantom did spread over the course of the week, though nothing odd had even happened yet, except... for that note that Theresa picked up. That was what started it, the note. The people from the theatre, that returned, looked around soon after Theresa had left with it. They looked up at the rafters, into dark corners, to see if they would see a shadow or something around them.
The person who looked around especially was Madame Giry, she tried to keep her face calm, but visibly the shock from the note was evident. The two people from the table walked over to where Theresa was seated, who was focused now more on eating and getting that done rather than the gossip at the other side. "Well, well," Henri started with a grin taking an empty seat next to her. She looked up at him, caught in mid-chew. Theresa gulped down what she could as he continued, "look who finally decided to show up to eat."
Theresa greeted him sarcastically, "Hello to you, too."
"Bonjour," Emile said with her small smile, showing the dimples in her cheeks. She sat across from Theresa and Henri. Her brown eyes were small and dark, they could almost be considered black. Her hair was also dark against her porcelain white skin, sometimes when a person would look at her she looked like an oversized doll with a pointed nose and small ears. Though, her hair was extremely curly, thick, and it would reach to the middle of her back. Often, Theresa would joke with her that she would kill for that sort of hair, she hated how hers was, most of the time, straight with the exception of a few waves.
"Hello," Theresa paid more attention to her food, hearing a low growl from her stomach. She dipped her bread again in the oil and vinegar before taking a bite of her soaked piece.
"Now, are you going to tell me what I am doing today or is Monsieur Reyer going to tell me what I am doing today?" Henri asked her curiously with a wink. Theresa cocked her brow as she gulped down her bread. What did he mean by that? Theresa looked to Emile, who was also unsure of what he would mean by that. She looked over at Henri who was nodding toward her in a way to get the idea in her head. It took a moment, but soon she got it easily.
She nodded taking her spoon and dipping just enough to get the red soup with beans and macaroni. She replied shortly before sipping the soup elegantly, the hotness of it soothed her throat, "He agreed to it."
Emile leaned over the table, not sure of what they would mean by it, "Agreed to what, Theresa?"
For a moment, Theresa had forgotten that she hadn't told her good friend about this at all. Theresa sighed and placed her spoon on her plate. Like she had with Dupant, she smiled as she explained her good news, "I wanted to do something different for the aria. At first, he had done what Henri said he would do," she glared over at him annoyed as he took a piece off her bread without her consent once he was mentioned, "and refused, but then he said yes with some persuasion and we will be working on it when the break is done."
Henri went to dip the piece of bread into the oil, Theresa snatched it out of his hand and scowled playfully, "And you should learn to not steal a woman's bread, monsieur. Manners aren't your forte."
"That is wonderful!" Emile stated, ignoring what had just happened, with a smile that was almost as big as Theresa's was before.
Henri shook his head no, closing his eyes, "For her it is," he stated, taking the bread out of Theresa's hand as she was about to eat it herself, "for you, it is not. She gets to practice her own piece while I am practising on stage with Josef and the others during the final fighting scene. And you," he pointed to the ballerina as he ate the piece under Theresa's hard glare that was thrown at him. While he was chewing, he finished, "are probably going to have to either warm-up or do drills, or rehearse somewhere without using the stage or music to help."
"Well," Emile said with the smile still on her face, "I don't mind that, I don't mind doing those things anyway; but what I do mind is a man chewing loudly and talking at the same time by my ear." Henri stopped chewing to narrow his eyes at her and swallowed down all that was in his mouth. Theresa chuckled, shaking her head. She tried so hard not to laugh loudly and when she looked at his expression from the shock of how an innocent girl like Emile retorted to him like that, she had to bite the inside of her mouth to control it.
"Just like I said before," Theresa started to her friend, "manners isn't something that has been taught to him." Henri scoffed next to them as he took a drink of the water in his glass. Theresa smirked at him, but the gossip by them was starting to get on her nerves from the group of people at that table. "You two were just over there, right?" She nodded toward the table with her eyes locked on it. Henri and Emile followed her gaze over there then back at her.
Henri nodded. "We were actually waiting for your arrival here, princess." He told her with a bit of mockery in it. Theresa rolled her eyes and looked to Emile who nodded somewhat that it was a little true.
Theresa sighed, "Why are so many huddled over there?"
"Old woman gossip," Henri sneered, the tone actually was shocking to hear from him as he looked away from her and to the ground. Theresa eyed him carefully, seeing a sort of resentment in his eyes.
Emile didn't hesitate in correcting that, bringing Theresa's full attention onto her, "The Phantom of the Opera is said to have returned." Her head snapped toward her just from the name and a shiver up her spine came through her. It wasn't from the fear that others would get, no, it was more a knowing shiver that went through her. Henri wasn't paying attention to the two women, having something plague his mind that haunted him for many years. "Have you heard the story of him, Theresa?"
She shook her head no and Henri rubbing his forehead, stated for her, "I don't think she would want to hear the story of the Phantom, Emile." Theresa heard something in Henri's voice that dampened her mood a bit. "I don't know why anyone would want to hear about that mad man at all."
"I do," she stated, looking at Henri. Theresa nodded toward Emile and stated, "I want to hear about him. The managers only told me that he was a rumour, not a mad man."
"Then they are kidding themselves," Henri muttered with a slight roll of his eyes. His body actually grew stiffer as he shifted in his seat to look at Emile who seemed that she would tell the story. Theresa could easily tell that he had heard it before, and it might have disturbed him. Henri said louder to the two of them, "They obviously don't want her to know if they lied like that."
"So you would like to keep me in the dark still if they had lied to me about it?" She asked him growing annoyed. Just let her tell me, the Phantom wanted me to know about it judging by the letter where he mentioned me in, she thought. Theresa watched him carefully before stating to him, "If you don't want to hear it, then I suggest you don't and leave, let her tell me if she wants to. Judging by the gossip anyway, it's not like this will be my only chance to hear it."
Henri mumbled stubbornly something along the lines of, 'I'm not leaving,' before gesturing for Emile to tell it to her. Theresa sighed and faked a smile as she nodded toward Emile to start it. "Well, the Phantom was indeed a man and he lived below this very Opera House for many years. This was his Opera House, and many were fearful of him. He wore all black and usually wears a mask that's white and covers half of his face," Theresa kept her eyes from widening, "he demands a salary, and that box 5 is to be left empty for his own personal use when there is an opera."
Henri shook his head and he stated to Emile, "You never even saw him yourself, you only feed off the rumours you hear. And," Theresa heard a humour in his voice that didn't even mean to be there, "you are by far the worst story teller I think has ever opened their mouth before, my dear."
Emile narrowed her eyes at him and stated, "Well, if you say that, then you tell the story, since you are so keen on insulting me."
Henri had a look on his face, almost like he didn't want to at all. His body tensed and he moved his neck side to side, rolling his shoulders in a way to relieve it. He replied, much to Theresa's surprise, "Fine, I'll tell it and I'll do it ten times better than you would."
Emile sighed and shook her head, "I can't wait to hear this."
Henri sent her a glare before turning to Theresa. The words coming out of his mouth could be looked at as rubbish by anyone who really knew the truth. "How she described the Phantom is barely how he is. He's a mad man, Theresa, an obsessive, murderous, mad man. His eyes are sunken in and where his nose should be there is a great black hole, his skin is yellow, sickly yellow and he is thin like he has been starved." Theresa visibly gulped, it seemed disbelieving what he was telling her, but how he was telling it was like he saw him for himself. "The mask he wears is a mask of death, white and covers that half of his face, the man looks like the spawn of the devil! It is the last thing people would see before they would perish with his weapon, a Punjab lasso. Ever hear of it?"
Theresa shook her head no and then he looked to Emile, who actually also seemed entranced with his story. "What about you?" Emile slowly shook her head no, the two of them not saying a word. He rolled his eyes and stated before continuing, "I shouldn't have asked, you barely know a thing of him as is."
Emile parted her mouth to retort, but she closed it, finding that she really had nothing to say and then glared at him spitefully when he spoke, "It's a weapon, almost like a hangman's noose, but it isn't... it's made of a cat's gut," Theresa allowed herself to widen her eyes this time and she pushed the food in front of her away, she no longer had her appetite once gut was mentioned. "He uses it like a noose though, strangles his victims until their necks break under his and the noose's hold," he furrowed his eyes down as Theresa watched him cautiously. He allowed himself a breath before continuing, "Though, you would have to keep your hand up here," he looked back up and held his hand to his eye, "it would stop him."
"Well, the man was always secretive and did actually act like a ghost up until six years ago, demanding high payment from the manager and his box to remain empty. But six years ago he really made his presence known," Henri had a distant look in his eye as he looked at Theresa, he was now a totally different person, and not the arrogant, cocky man that she had come to know and be annoyed by several times. "The story of what truly happened is definitely a mystery, but there was an opera called Il Muto. The patron sat in his box and then during the ballet..." he trailed off, unsure of what were the right words to say.
Theresa felt herself getting intrigued, she had forgotten the sadness on his face she noticed before, "And? What happened then?"
It took him a moment, "Joseph... Buquet, a stage-hand had seen the Phantom and followed him, I guess. The Phantom used his Punjab... to strangle him and a moment later, Joseph Buquet hung from the rafter," Henri closed his eyes as he felt something in his chest twist and turn, he didn't dare open them. Theresa found the traces of pain in his voice as he continued, "and fell onto the stage, when the rope snapped."
The three remained silent and Theresa looked to her food, though her stomach still growled she didn't even think that she even wanted to eat now. Emile opened her mouth, "You know, there was no proof that the Phantom actually had done it." Theresa snapped her head toward Emile, with her eyebrow cocked. Henri snapped his eyes opened angrily and glared at her. Emile didn't fall under it so easily, "It could've just been an accident."
"An accident?" Henri snarled lowly, making Theresa's face fell. That must've struck a nerve in him. She looked over at him curiously at his sudden, strange behaviour, "You call a man hanging in the middle of an opera a coincidence when only it was a little after the Phantom spoke out? That's the most idiotic thing I've heard in all my life!"
"Henri, he could've tripped on the rafters and had gotten himself snagged in the ropes."
Henri rolled his eyes, he sarcastically said to her, "Yes, that is exactly what had happened. A man got snagged in the ropes in the rafters and the rope magically tied itself in the form of a noose, happens all the time."
"Well, it could've been suicide, too."
"The man wouldn't of committed suicide," Henri told her knowingly. Theresa was only looking between the two of them, feeling like she was caught in the middle of this.
Emile didn't seem to be backing down, the seventeen year old girl, the youngest out of the three, thought she knew everything. Theresa could admit, that Emile could be a know-it-all. She noticed that the first time that they had actually met each other, but she didn't mind it. This time, however, she seemed to have gone a step too far, Theresa couldn't stop it because she didn't know the extent of which how Henri would react to it.
Emile stated to him, "The man was a drunken stage-hand like the lot of them are, I heard he left a woman with a child before coming here to work. You don't know his mindset at the time, so it is absolutely possible that it could—."
"Stop talking as if you know him!" Henri told her harshly with his voice almost in a yell. Theresa and Emile both parted their mouth and gapingly looked at him, the look in his eyes made Theresa cringe. There were so many secrets that were being held in them that she wasn't even sure if she wanted to know anything. Some people in the small dining room had heard what was going on and were looking their way feeling the icy chill in the room. Henri frowned as he took a look around, gulping. He picked up his half-empty glass of water and muttered to them dimly, "I need more water."
"Henri," Theresa called for him and tried to catch his hand, but he left too fast. He was walking such a fast pace that he was already fading away from her sights.
Theresa sighed and looked around to see people still looking over at where she was. She shooed their stares away, "Nothing to look at everyone, pay mind to your own business." Slowly, almost every head turned away from them. Theresa stared down the others to turn around and the scornful look soon made them turn around and carry on with their own business.
Theresa looked back at Emile who seemed to still be in shock by his reaction. Theresa told her sternly, "That was too far to prove a point, Emile. And I know that you know that I'm right."
Emile nodded in agreement as Theresa took a piece off her bread and slowly dipped it into the oil, even though her lunch wasn't at all going to make her feel better. She stated, "Well... I didn't think that I was going to get that sort of reaction from him. I didn't mean to do that."
"I know," she nodded understandingly, looking at her bread. She now really wasn't hungry so she placed it back. Theresa added, "I don't think we ever expected that sort of reaction from that man... ever." I know I didn't, she thought to herself. She sighed again, "Just be careful next time, we don't want an outburst from him like that again because of a couple of buttons being pushed."
Emile smiled and nodded, "Yes, exactly, I could see that what I have done could've been annoying, but you must have seen my point... right?"
"That still doesn't justify—." Emile interrupted her.
"But you did, didn't you? I see that you have in your eyes, Theresa."
"I'm not speaking on that, Emile," she told her firmly. Theresa didn't know what had happened truly nor had she heard of it before this time. It was in the past for one thing and she didn't even know about it long enough to judge she thought. She told Emile with her voice a little bit more calmer, with little edge, "I think this calls for a subject change."
"But we haven't finished!" Emile said in almost a whine, making Theresa do a double-take of her.
She shook her head no, "I don't even know if I want to finish this conversation now after what had happened with Henri, Emile."
"But this is about the fire, I'll at least tell it quickly before he would come back," she insisted on it. What was Theresa to say? She wanted to know, but she didn't know if it would be a good idea for her to know at that moment. She threw a careful look behind her shoulder to see that Henri was standing there watching them while Dupant was talking to him. Theresa's shoulders fell compassionately and he turned away from her as he sipped her water. She parted her mouth and looked to Emile, still slightly unsure about it, but her curiosity soon took over.
She sighed and gestured for her to finish it, "But quickly, if you please."
Emile nodded to her and then continued with it, "So later on that year, they performed the opera that the Phantom wrote himself," now why on earth would they do that? Theresa watched her carefully and it was almost as if her mind was read, "it was a way to catch him. They had the place bordered with the police, all armed and ready to take him. But, the Phantom killed off the lead male and took his place, he sang in the opera... with the lead soprano." Theresa's shoulders fell, so those people that had seen the Phantom in the opera were right... if the police were there that would mean that the managers definitely did lie to her.
"I don't know all that much that had happened, but what I do know is that he kidnapped her for himself and brought the chandelier down, setting the Opera Populaire on fire. She had taken off his mask before, too, revealing what was under there to almost all of Paris' upper class."
Theresa watched her carefully and shook her head, "What exactly is behind the mask?"
Emile shrugged her shoulders, "Don't know," she admitted to her, "I wasn't there, I was young at the time, around twelve. I only read some of it in the paper."
Theresa nodded, she should have known that. She sighed, "Do you know who the soprano was?"
"Oh, that I do know," Emile started, leaning over the table with her voice a mere whisper, "the last one, she's now the Contes De Chagny, but then she was Miss. Christine Daae." The name was so familiar to her, but she couldn't recall where she had heard it before. The managers probably told her about her when they were trying to get her into the Opera House. As Theresa was taking in some of what had happened with the fire, Emile looked up to see Henri making their way.
Emile stated, "Maybe I should go, warm up before break is over." Theresa looked up with her eyebrow raised and turned her head to see Henri making his way back.
She nodded when she faced Emile, "I think that would be best." Emile muttered a quick 'goodbye' before getting up from her seat and leaving the dining area. Theresa watched her feeling bad that she had felt that she would have to leave, but if Henri was coming back and she was there, Theresa had the strangest feeling that it wouldn't be a pretty sight. Theresa shook her head and looked away to see that people were watching Henri make his way.
She rolled her eyes scowling at them, "Once again, pay mind to your business." Theresa watched them turn back around, and she rubbed her temples to relax. She closed her eyes while continuously rubbing them, she didn't even notice or hear the chair shift next to her.
"Where had Emile gone?" He asked Theresa, she stopped rubbing her temples to see Henri sitting there and looking at her with little emotion.
She sighed, "She... had to do her warm-ups. She wanted to get them started before she would have to rehearse again."
"What a coincidence it is that she had only decided to do that when I was coming back?" He shook his head and held a glass of water for her to take. "I brought you a glass of water, thought that you would be needing it for when you have to work with Monsieur Reyer. It'll help loosen your vocals."
"Thank you," Theresa bowed her head and took it without any question, surprisingly she had forgotten what had happened earlier that day. She took a quick sip of it and stated to him, "That was very thoughtful of you."
"Yeah... I could be thoughtful when I want to," he muttered, his voice was low and it was barely audible for Theresa to hear when she was only a foot away from him.
She gulped and started to him, shifting in her chair to turn her body toward him a bit more, "Henri," he looked into her hazel eyes at the sound of her voice, "if I knew what Emile was going to say before and how you would react to it, I would've stopped her. She went too far with that and I told her that soon after you left. I apologize, I should've never let that topic even begin in the first place."
He smiled at her warmly and took her hand within his, stroking the skin over her knuckles. Theresa felt a surge go through as he did. "It's not your apology to give, my lady. You didn't know, I did know when I started to tell it. I should've let her continue it... not I. If you think that you are at fault then get that silly nonsense out of your head now."
She chuckled lightly and stated, "Well, you're not at fault, so you definitely have no need to apologize."
"That may be," he shook his head, the distant look coming back into his eyes. "But it was definitely easy to prevent, so I'd rather take blame for it." Theresa didn't bother to argue with him, knowing that would get her no where. He chuckled and that seemed to be like music to her ears since it was absent for a bit. He looked to her food and gestured toward it, "You're not going to eat, princess?" When had he started calling her princess?
She didn't bother asking about that to him, shaking her head she told him truthfully, "I lost my appetite the moment when you mentioned a cat's gut." She shivered just from the thought of it.
"Oh, then if you're not going to eat your bread then I might as well," before Theresa could protest, he took the bread in his hand and took a bite out of it. Theresa narrowed her eyes at him, but smirked.
"It is not at all nice taking people's food without their permission, monsieur."
"I couldn't agree more, but I never said that I am a polite person who wouldn't do that either, mademoiselle." He grinned at her crookedly after his quick retort.
Theresa sighed, shaking her head, muttering, "Whatever." Henri laughed loudly, taking bites out of the bread while dipping it himself in the olive oil and vinegar. Theresa's smirk dropped when she was reminded that he was still holding her hand, tightly like he wasn't planning on letting go of it any time soon. She asked him before anything, "Henri, can I ask you something?" The tone of her voice made Henri stop chewing and gulping down the last of the bread that was there. He nodded slowly, "How do you know Joseph Buquet? Were you two close?"
Close? Hardly, I barely knew him, he thought to himself, remembering how his father didn't give him the time of day really until he confronted him, scowling. He lied to her, "Yes," he closed his eyes, it still pained him that his father was murdered only a little after they had met. He nodded, opening them, "yes, he was a newly acquired friend of mine."
She smiled at him warmly, he squeezed her hand more in response to it. "It must've been hard to even talk about his death, I know if I have lost a friend after shortly meeting him then I would push it aside and not talk about it at all." Henri gulped loudly and nodded slowly and thankfully. The two stayed there for a while, ignoring the looks thrown their way. Theresa kept her eyes staring into them, exploring the blue and grey colours that were there, but soon she shook her head and took her hand back away from him, trying not to show the crimson blush that dared to make its own appearance.
"I..." she trailed off, at a loss of words.
Henri chuckled lightly, his arrogant smirk made its appearance as she sat there flustered. "You...?" Theresa gulped the nervous lump in her throat down, maybe she was only being paranoid, but she actually did feel the crimson blush make its way on her cheeks. "You know, princess, you have beautiful eyes. Hazel."
She gulped nervously again and nodded thankfully, "As do you, Henri..." Damn you, you're making me all flustered,Theresa was lucky that she was sitting, because if she was standing her knees would have definitely had gone weak.
"That's very forward, don't you think?" Henri asked with slight mockery in his tone. Theresa's face fell and Henri laughed as she glared at him amused. He got up and straightened his clothes with his hands. Theresa looked up at him, only realizing that he had the slight stubble on his jawline and that he was built with broad shoulders. She hadn't realized that he was much taller than her, and now the height difference was more than noticeable even if she wasn't standing. His smirk fell soon and he asked her suddenly, "Theresa, that note you have gotten last week... was that from the Phantom?"
Theresa felt the heat from her cheeks quickly go away and knitted her eyebrows. She narrowed her eyebrows confused for a moment, but she was debating on more what to tell him rather than telling him the truth. Theresa sighed, this called heavily for a lie, "No," she stated after a long moment, "the note was old, some smart stage-hand decided to spook people in the theatre. When I brought it to the managers, they only confirmed it being old."
A look of relief seemed to have lifted off of Henri's shoulders and he nodded from the news, "Oh, good. So the Phantom of the Opera isn't back then?" Theresa smiled and shook her head no.
'You're a better liar than I thought. You're full of surprises, signora.' Theresa heard the voice again and she refrained from widening her eyes after hearing it. Henri looked at her carefully for a moment before nodding, "Great, then, I'll see you around. Eat, I don't want you to pass out on stage."
"I will, don't worry," she said, trying to get that voice out of her head at once. Theresa now had to focus on something other than the previous topic. But for some reason, Theresa didn't want him to leave her again. She quickly looked around herself, feeling something cold begin to crawl up her, raising the hairs on her back slightly. Henri didn't move to far away before she gripped his hand within hers. Henri stopped in his place and looked down at her small hand on top of his with his eyebrow slightly raised. "Why don't you stay? I'd rather not eat alone."
Henri's eyebrow fell and a crooked grin showed on his face, before he sat down again right next to her. "I will stay as long as you need me to, my lady." He bowed his head slightly toward her and raised his hand that still held her hand and kissed the top of it gently. His lips against her skin there made her calm down from when she heard... him again. The cold that surrounded her before almost vanished, but she somehow still thought that she was being watched. She had a feeling though that her imagination was getting the better of her again, especially after that story about him.
"Thank you, see you are definitely a polite person," she said to him with a slight chuckle, bringing her lunch closer as she tentatively dipped her spoon inside of it.
Henri's grin seemed to grow in response, "Well, I never denied I was a polite person before either, princess." She shook her head, an eye roll taking its toll once again as she gripped the spoon and sipped gently from it. When did he get the idea that calling her princess was ever okay? But she didn't make to stop him from doing it either. "You only assumed that I'm not."
"Well, polite people don't steal bread from other people,"she retorted to him. "And who said that you can call me princess? Did you assume that you can do it?"
"Of course I did," Henri said to her. Theresa tilted her head toward him and bit the inside of her lip. "Why? Don't like it, princess?"
"Not at all," she answered him honestly as she continued to eat slowly in front of him. "It's very annoying, if I do say so myself."
"Annoying?" He questioned her, she could see in his blue eyes that he was feigning his insult. He placed a hand mockingly over his heart like she just bruised his ego. In reality, it made him only have a bigger head than what he had before. "Why, Theresa, you really know how to break a man's heart, you know that?"
"I highly doubt that that's the case with you right now, monsieur."
"Well, look at you, our Prima Donna is starting to get some backbone to her. I am impressed," Henri stated to her, looking her up and down at her almost admirably. He really did like that in a woman and she was the last person to make him even think that would have some sort of bite in her retorts and rebuttals to him. Actually, he believed that retorts and rebuttals were two things a person like her would never be able to do. Theresa narrowed her eyes at him and furrowed her brow at him for a moment. She didn't know what to think when his eyes scanned over her like they had done before.
Theresa went to speak up when Henri's name was heard behind her, "Henri," a girl exclaimed walking their way over to them. Theresa frowned at the sound of the voice, hearing the familiar tone. She couldn't match a name to it, nor a face, but she did hear that voice before. Henri looked up to see Mademoiselle Alaina Bellerose, one of the chorus members, coming to him. His grin grew wider and his blue eyes suddenly had a mischievous glint in them. Theresa turned her head to see the girl coming toward them.
"Signora," Alaina greeted her. Theresa faked a smile to her. A fake, sweet smile that she felt that she had given too many times already in Paris. The girl had a biting tone that seemed almost like it could kill her. What did she ever do to this girl to deserve that tone? She really would like to know, but she had a feeling that she would never figure it out. Well, actually, the girl in front of her was not even a girl at all. She was more of a woman with perfect blonde curls and fair pale skin that was far more paler than Theresa's. She was definitely beautiful and Theresa almost felt a tinge of jealousy inside her.
Henri's grin was far too evident for Theresa as well and how his eyes lit up for her when she came told her that he was fond of her. "Alaina." Alaina, I'll have to remember that, she thought to herself. She didn't even stop to talk to them, she walked straight ahead and Theresa watched as Henri turned his head to actually watch her go to the table that was by them. How weird was it that this was the first time that Theresa had noticed her here? She waited until Henri turned his head to speak, but apparently he was being too preoccupied at the moment.
So Theresa heaved a large sigh before crossing her arms over her chest. She cleared her throat to have Henri turn his head back to her and he did so almost immediately like he only just realized that she was still there. "Who is that?" She asked him, her eyes looking above Henri's head to watch the blonde bob her head into the group over there.
"Her?" Henri questioned to make sure, clearing this throat awkwardly. Theresa nodded slowly to him, there wasn't another her that she was speaking about. "That's Mademoiselle Bellerose, she's a part of the chorus. You have never seen her before." Theresa shook her head no, if she had she wouldn't be asking. Once Alaina decided to look up though, straight at them, Theresa looked away almost immediately. But at the corner of her eye, she could see a look crossing Alaina's eyes that weren't good at all, and it bothered her a great deal, too.
Hope you enjoyed the update! Please review to tell me what you think :)