Chapter 28
The Opera House bustled with activity following the announcement that Cathedra di Carlo was retiring. The managers had purposely called her departure a retirement and said that her years of divine entertainment on the Parisian stage have come to an outstanding conclusion. On the front page of the newspaper they had an illustration of Cathedra as well as the headline: May the voice of a true angel forever be remembered with fondness.
The announcement was intended for the newspaper, however, it seemed every delivery boy, stable hand, and rat catcher knew precisely what had happened to the soprano and rumors grew like brush fire. No one believed for a moment that Senora di Carlo had retired suddenly.
Despite the cancellation of shows, I saw very little of Madeline for almost a week. She did not elaborate on what kept her away, although I suspected it had mostly to do with the amount of people bustling through the halls which made it nearly impossible for her to slip into the cellar unnoticed during the day. She made it a habit of visiting me early in the morning, typically an hour after I returned to the cellar after a night spent wandering around.
"How is she?" I asked.
"No one has said."
No one seemed to know any of the details of Cathedra's health, but everyone had an opinion. I overheard dancers gossiping that Cathedra was inebriated during performances and her declining health was nothing more than the result of her drinking. Superstitious delivery drivers said the singer had made a deal with the devil and he had finally come to claim her.
For two days, I wandered through the halls out of sight and listened for a hint of information as to the true nature of Cathedra's condition. I stood shivering beneath the stage at dawn in hopes of one of the delivery drivers mentioning something, but there was no news.
With the theater layoff, there was a limited amount of people working in the Opera House. A skeleton crew, Madeline had called it, consisting of the house managers, the stable manager and his son, and two cooks who prepared hot meals twice a day for those who paid on a monthly basis rather than weekly for room and board.
Madeline had normally paid for her dormitory stay by the month, but after her brother's death and father's illness, she had started to send money home, which left her unable to pay a large sum at once.
"I should have enough to get me through this week," Madeline told me three days after Cathedra's unexpected leave from the theater. "And then I suppose if it comes down to it I can always take the next week's out of my savings." She paused and frowned. "I apologize for not bringing you more to eat, but there is limited food as it is."
"I have plenty stored away," I promised her. I had no intention of being a burden upon her.
The only bright side to the layoff was that Madeline had no rehearsals or shows, which meant she spent a good amount of time tucked into an armchair with a book on her lap or helping me break down the wooden crates and set them aside as kindling. Despite saying she would not tidy up my sty of a living space, she did in fact absently fold my clean clothes and tuck them neatly into my wardrobe while she sang along to a folk song I played on the violin.
"I have a few errands to run tomorrow, but I will see you tomorrow afternoon," she promised.
Once Madeline returned to the dormitory, I waited a full ten minutes before I slid on my boots and wrapped my cloak around me. I walked up the cellar stairs to the main floor and heard the clock chime midnight when I reached the hallway. Voices in the distance made me stay put behind the cellar door longer than I desired, but soon enough silence replaced the chatter and I padded into the hall.
With food scarce, I took a single apple from the pantry rather than my usual three or four. I ate one as I leisurely strolled down the hall, fingers skimming along the stones until I found the one protruding slightly further than the rest.
I looked both ways down the hallway, breath held as I waited for the sound of footsteps or voices signaling someone approached, but I was alone. For a long moment I stared at the loose brick before I set my lantern down, took a deep breath, crouched down, and worked it out of the wall.
The scrape of stone against stone sounded impossibly loud to my ears. Sweat dampened my brow and my heart pounded as I pulled the stone loose, placed it at my feet, and reached into the wall.
I immediately pulled my hand back and grunted in surprise when I felt something unexpectedly furry. My first guess was that a rat had died in the wall, which made me shiver. I took a step back and nearly tripped over my lantern.
Turning the light up, I peered into the small space and realized the furry object was what appeared to be a mink stole.
"Thank God," I muttered to myself as I moved it aside and found a small wooden box. The moment my fingers caressed the smooth, cool surface, I smiled inwardly. "Treasure," I whispered. Not from the Pirate Daae, but from an even greater scoundrel.
I placed the box lid on top of the brick and discovered not only banknotes stuffed inside, but several silver rings, a few coins, and two keys. I held up one of the rings and looked it over in the light briefly and thought of Amelie Batiste, my swan princess from one of the last nights I had been with my uncle.
Weeks had passed and I had not thought of her, but the rings reminded me of the jewelry belonging to her family that I had found in the possession of the gypsies.
The jewelry Buquet had stolen was of greater quality than what the Batiste family had owned, which was all the more reason for me to take it off of Buquet's greasy hands. I dropped it into my pocket, assuming whatever was in the box had been stolen by Buquet and that once he discovered the box had been tampered with he would find a new hiding place. This opportunity would not arise again.
Rather than take a handful of banknotes as I had originally planned, I removed every last item, save a single coin, which I thought was quite generous of me. Perhaps it was a bit spiteful on my part, but I left my apple core to rot inside the velvet lined box. I could only imagine the look of disgust on Buquet's face when he discovered his stolen funds missing.
Pockets full, I returned the box into the wall, fit the stone back into place, and lifted my lantern shoulder height. I returned to my lakeside home tired, content, and with a gift for Madeline to lessen the financial burden the layoff placed on her.
oOo
I made myself breakfast late in the afternoon, using several eggs I had taken from the kitchen earlier in the week and the last of my bread before it went stale. Madeline walked in and sniffed the air before she hung her cloak up on a coat rack I had fixed.
"I made enough for two people," I said over my shoulder as I scraped food onto two plates.
When Madeline did not reply, I turned to find her with one of the rings between her thumb and forefinger. "Where did you find this?" she questioned.
"In the hall," I answered. Perhaps not the whole truth, but not quite a lie, I told myself.
Madeline looked at the other rings I had left on the table. The banknotes were still tucked inside my cloak as I had not expected her quite so early.
"In the hall?" she asked.
I kept my gaze trained on the plates rather than her face as I placed our meals on the table and took a seat across from her. "Yes, in the hall," I answered. My voice sounded strange to my own ears as though my tone gave me away.
"When?"
"Last night."
"Last night?" She sounded surprised by my answer.
"I went to grab an apple from the pantry," I replied.
Madeline continued to study the ring. She grunted and reached for her coffee. "In the middle of the floor?"
I regretted fabricating a story, but now that she asked me specific questions, I could not turn back. "Near the wall," I replied."
Madeline placed the ring on the table and grabbed another one. "The first one belongs to Cathedra," she said. "The others I do not recognize." She squinted at the second one and looked inside the band. "No inscription or initials."
"Strange," I answered. I did not know what else to say.
"I would not be surprised if someone stole them from her amidst the chaos and ended up dropping them." She paused and looked me in the eye. "Actually, I find it very strange that someone took four rings and dropped them all in the same hallway."
My heart stuttered and I blinked at her. If anything, Madeline was not ignorant. "They were in the wall," I blurted out.
Madeline went silent for an agonizing moment. She lined the rings up in a row and looked them over one by one.
"Buquet must have taken them," she said at last. Her gaze returned to mine and she shook her head. "Stealing from the sick."
"That is not all." I stood and walked to the coat rack where I dug into my cloak pocket and brought a wad of francs to the table, which I set down in front of Madeline. Her eyes went wide when she looked at the sum Joseph Buquet had stolen.
"God have mercy," she said.
"Roughly a thousand francs."
"You took all of it?"
"I left a coin in the box."
Madeline's lips parted. "A coin? A single coin?"
Her reaction made me chuckle. "And an apple core." I paused. "And what I thought was a dead rat but was a mink stole."
Now it was her turn to laugh. "You cannot be serious."
Given that her mood seemed considerably lighter, I took my seat again and pulled my bread apart in order to slide my eggs inside. "Absolutely serious. When you told me the performances were on hold, I had every intention of taking some of the money Buquet stashed inside, but once I saw the rings." I shrugged. "I took all of it."
Madeline bit her bottom lip. "What do you intend to do with all of this?"
"Give it to you."
Her eye widened in horror. "I can't-"
"You must."
"No, Erik, it does not belong to you to give."
My jaw twitched at her words, my anger unexpectedly stoked. "Buquet stole it from someone, I stole it from him. As far as I am concerned, considering I have no idea who the funds belonged to originally, it is mine to do with as I please."
Madeline looked taken aback by my statement. "What about the rings?"
I thought a moment. "Place them in the chapel," I said.
"The chapel?"
I nodded. "I will write a note saying they were found by the opera ghost and that I wish to return them to Senora di Carlo. My gift to her."
After a long moment, Madeline finally agreed. "I suppose given Cathedra's fondness for this opera ghost it would be appropriate. And perhaps Buquet would be less inclined to steal from others if he thought a spirit was behind all of this."
"Perhaps, however, the banknotes I will not return," I said firmly. I had never been so bold in my life, but I was refused to back down. With the return of Cathedra's jewelry by a ghost, the rumors would flourish. I wanted nothing more than to hold the upper hand against Buquet.
"There is a thousand francs," Madeline offered.
"Yes, there is, and I will not place a single franc in the chapel during a layoff. Every person in the theater will claim the funds belong to them. If they are desperate enough, they are capable of harming one another for ten francs."
Madeline sighed and crossed her arms. "I believe you are correct, but I am not comfortable with taking money that is not mine."
I should have expected as much from Madeline, but her refusal still irritated me. I took a bite of my food and chewed in silence. "If you reconsider, you know where you may find it," I said.
Although she frowned at me, Madeline said nothing further. We ate in silence for a moment before I asked if she would mind retrieving the butter. She made a face, muttered under her breath, but walked the length of my apartments to bring the butter to the table. While her back was to me, I slid thirty francs from the wad of banknotes and tucked it into her bag by her seat.
"Butter," Madeline announced. She looked at me and sighed. "For which you have no bread left."
She sat with a huff and changed the subject to something I had no desire to discuss: Captain Gaetan Giry.
"He sent me a letter from port," she said proudly. "And the next time he visits, he promised me a bottle of exotic perfume."
"Why would any woman in France need exotic perfume?" I asked irritably.
Madeline either didn't notice my tone or decided to ignore me. "I find it very romantic. I cannot wait until he returns next month."
"Next month?" I gasped.
I had assumed he would be out to sea for six months, perhaps a year, perhaps washed up on a deserted island somewhere far away where he would live out the rest of his days eating fish and seaweed while he spritzed exotic perfume on his sun burned flesh.
Madeline nodded. "For the holidays. He will visit for two weeks and then…"
She gave a long and rather dramatic pause. Given my limited social interactions with others, I did not realize her drawn out silence was a cue for me to ask her what would happen next.
"Then I hope he will ask for my hand," Madeline finished. She gave me a sideways look and shook her head.
I had no reaction to her words other than a shrug.
"You have nothing to say?"
Nothing nice, I considered telling her, but already she seemed somewhat annoyed with me and I decided not to press further.
"What would you have me say?" I asked, feigning innocence.
Madeline grunted. "Nothing." Her bottom lip jutted out and she crossed her arms. "Are you going to write your opera ghost note for Cathedra?"
"Now?" I questioned.
She shrugged as though to mock me. "I will take it up with me for your convenience." She eyed the unused butter on the table between us.
"That will not be necessary. I will deliver it tonight."
Madeline's eyes narrowed. "What if Buquet is out prowling the halls?"
It was my turn to shrug again. "Let him prowl. I am not afraid of him," I said.