The lightness in my heart remained with me the following morning during warm-ups. All the other dancers, aside from Christine and Meg, stood apart from me as they did most every warm-up session. Ignoring their intended slight, I concentrated on my dance moves. Starting with the most basic moves - 5 Positions - and moving on to arabesque and plié, determined to get each one perfect, as Madame Giry had directed.

My practice, however, was interrupted by Madame Giry herself and the theatre owner, Monsieur Lefevre. They were in the middle of what appeared to be a heated discussion, with Madame Giry waving her hands in a helpless gesture. As they passed, the other dancers turned to watch and listened with keen interest. When their heads swiveled in my direction and both Madame Giry and Lefevre had their eyes turned to me, I knew that the discussion had been about me. Whispers started among the ballerinas, without a care to hide it from me.

Christine and Meg halted their own warm-up to watch the exchange, wide-eyed and worried.

Madame Giry and Monsieur Lefevre stopped next to me. At the looks on their faces my insides grew cold.

"Mademoiselle Devoreaux," Monsieur Lefevre said by way of greeting and gave me a curt nod.

"Monsieur Lefevre," I replied. I gave a small stiff curtsy.

He grunted. "Jacqueline, my dear, you are very new to the opera," he said. "And I have allowed you to stay here at the insistence of Madame Giry-" I cast a glance her way, but she was perfectly unreadable "-but you will not be able to stay here forever in this manner."

Oh no. I knew what he was going to say before he said it. It should not have surprised me. It is the way of the corps de ballet. Nevertheless, I had hoped he would overlook it, but of course he could not. Neither he nor Madame Giry could afford to have me staying here without some form of payment. Madame Giry told me I would not need to pay for the singing lessons, but of course she did not tell me that the food, lodging, and dancing would be free. Somehow, she had managed to provide these things for me without arousing suspicions until now. I was very grateful to her for that.

"You, I think, know what is required of you," he continued. He paused to give me a questioning look at which I nodded.

"An abonné," I murmured.

"Yes," he replied. "Without a sponsor to back you… I'm sorry, mademoiselle. There are plenty of other girls who would be very willing to take your place." He looked me up and down and I felt myself blush under his scrutiny. "You shouldn't have trouble finding an abonné. You are a very attractive girl."

My cheeks were nearly on fire I was blushing so furiously, but I nodded dutifully.

"There shall be plenty of men looking for a pretty ballerina to spend some time with them at the gala tomorrow," he plowed on, ignoring my obviously embarrassed silence. "I suggest you use the time wisely."

"Yes, Monsieur."

"Good. And good luck, Mademoiselle Devoreaux," he said, his tone softening. I glanced up at him to see his expression was sympathetic.

"Thank you, Monsieur Lefevre."

He left me standing in distraught silence with Madame Giry. After a moment, she placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me an apologetic look.

"You knew this was to be expected of you, non?" Madame Giry asked.

"Yes, I knew," I said.

Her heavy sigh came out in a burst of air. "I am sorry, Jacqueline. I had rather hoped to secure you a different type of sponsor." Madame Giry glanced in Lefevre's direction, then looked back at me.

Confused at her statement, I frowned up into her green eyes and I saw in them sorrow and hope warring. Deep inside she truly was sorry. But she still held onto hope… Hope for what? And what other kind of sponsor was there?

With a cautious glance at the other ballerinas, who had mostly returned to their practice before she could yell at them, Madame Giry used her hand on my shoulder to guide us away from the gossiping dancers who hid their wicked smiles and the beginnings of rumors behind long-fingered white hands.

"I need to tell you something," she said releasing my shoulder. She gestured that I should continue following her.

A nervous fluttering began in my stomach, only I had no idea why. Why should I be nervous? A hundred and one terrifying reasons raced through my mind, the most frightening one prevailing above all others. The thought that Benoit had finally found me after all this time and had come to take me home.

I found it suddenly hard to breathe and my steps faltered, making me stumble. My brain numbly registered laughter erupting from a cluster of the girls behind me. Just as numbly I wondered if they were laughing at me.

Keeping my eyes focused on Madame Giry's black dress, I followed her out of the back room and into the hallway a short distance where she stopped. As she turned to me in the dimly lit hallway, I saw my fears were superfluous. I could see the carefully concealed excitement underneath the well-collected mask; her eyes sparkled and the way she pursed her lips together made the corners of her mouth turn upward instead of down. My nervousness died, immediately replaced by curiosity.

Then Madame Giry spoke.

"He wants to hear you sing." A simple drop of words with all the force of a flood.

I blinked at her. It was the last thing I expected her to say.

"Tonight," she continued. "I needed to tell you now so that you would have time to prepare a song. I will meet you on the stage at ten o'clock."

I admit, I didn't process the information very well and remained blinking at her. She raised her eyebrows at me as if expecting an answer and the gesture brought me out of my surprised stupor.

"I- But- I…" I started unsuccessfully. Pausing to take a deep breath, I tried collecting my thoughts before I spoke. "He'll be here tonight?"

"Yes, he'll be here," she said, smiling at me.

I smiled back at her as the realization sunk in. "I do not suppose that this excuses me from practice today?" I teased.

She gave me a stern look, cocking her head a little. For her benefit I tried to hide my silly grin, but did not entirely succeed. Giving a small curtsy, I hurried back to the barre, with my silly grin spreading again.

/

Though the sleeping quarters were dark that night, it was hardly filled with sleeping girls. It hummed with whispered conversations. The gala was tomorrow night and as the time grew closer everyone seemed a little more tense. Alongside the mounting tension ran excitement; an excitement that was catching. And I had caught it too.

Christine and I huddled under a gray woollen blanket at the end of Meg's bed, in the dark; one of only two cliques of girls that were brave enough, or stupid enough, to sit up after lights-out chatting. I couldn't imagine what kind of punishment Madame Giry would exact upon us if she caught us. Perhaps she expected us to be too excited to sleep and so would do nothing. It didn't matter. I could not have cared in the least. It didn't really matter in my case anyway, as I was going to meet the voice coach tonight. I was in a carefree joyful mood and my friends, though less ebullient, were excited as well.

"I think you are going to love it," Meg said. "It's so thrilling to be up on that stage with everyone watching you!"

"But what if I trip?" I asked, finding myself suddenly worried.

Meg and Christine laughed.

"Oh, you can't possibly be as bad as Linette Chambon," Meg said, smiling ear-to-ear. I felt their infectious mirth tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"Who is Linette Chambon?" I asked cautiously.

"Oh, that poor girl," said Christine, looking to Meg who tried to stifle a burst of laughter with her hand. Christine continued, her dark eyes intense, "About two years ago she came to study here, to be a dancer. But she was so clumsy it was almost impossible for Madame Giry to teach her anything."

"Once, we were practicing for La Fille Du Pharaon and she spun completely off the stage!" Meg was laughing so hard she had tears rolling down her face.

Christine and I laughed, too; her at the memory and me at the absurdity of it. They regaled me with some more stories of the unfortunate Linette until I knew it was time for me to head down to the auditorium.

"I suppose I'd better try to get a good rest in before morning," I told them.

"I suppose you're right," whispered Christine, removing the blanket from around her shoulders and rising.

"I am a bit thirsty too. I think I'll see if I can find something to drink before I go to sleep," I lied, hoping they would think nothing of it when they saw me heading downstairs. "Good night!"

They said their goodnights and I grabbed a candlestick from a nearby nightstand. I tightened the frilly white robe I wore and made toward the staircase.

/

The auditorium was completely dark. Only a few of the stage lamps were lit. That seemed strange considering we were to have someone watching me. It gave me pause at the edge of the stage, but when I saw Madame Giry was already on the stage I summoned my courage and walked out to meet her.

She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, watching as I approached. In her black dress she blended into the darkness and she seemed comfortable with that, as though she and the darkness were best friends. I felt slightly uneasy at the thought, but brushed it away. There was nothing dark about Madame Giry.

"He is ready whenever you are," she said quietly.

I looked out at the blackness of the auditorium beyond the stage lights. Was she mad? He couldn't be here yet. There had been no introduction. And there was no sound indicating that there was anyone else there other than the two of us. And whoever this man was, surely he had no desire to sit in a blackened theatre. That was when I had a startling revelation: Madame Giry was quite insane. There really wasn't a teacher. She had made it all up and was crazy enough to think that I would believe her. And what happened after this when I asked whether he would take me on as a student? She would tell me I had been rejected, I supposed.

I stared out at the dark, where I knew were empty, plush, red seats and gilded balconies, and forced down the surging despair welling up inside me. Telling myself not to cry, I took a step closer to the edge of the stage, mostly to hide the disappointment on my face from Madame Giry.

I had chosen a song that would show off the range of my voice, and one that had always been a favorite of mine. I had practiced it whenever I had a moment during the day and when the girls questioned my sudden singing binge I merely told them that it was stuck in my head and the only way to free it was to let it out, which was not a complete lie. Deciding it was better to go along with Madame Giry's little game, I drew a deep steadying breath in and set my resolve.

Looking up to the giant chandelier above the seating I released my song, singing to the void and whoever could have been listening. Perhaps Monsieur Buquet up on one of the catwalks, but, I highly doubted, a magnificent voice coach in the auditorium.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A/N: Thank you all for showing such interest in my story and all the lovely comments! Unfortunately for you, the next post may be delayed because I will be on vacation! If time and wifi allow, I may be able to post as usual, but figured I'd better make you all aware of potential delays. Until next time, behave! :)