Chapter 13
"Her voice carries very well, especially for someone with no formal training." Madame Giry commented dreamily on Madelines voice. "That it does, I've almost allowed myself to feel hopeful." Marinette smiled softly. She was beginning to actually feel a little more at ease with herself. With their new Soprano, two patrons, and a possible mysterious financier, her future was beginning to look fruitful. But still, there was a small twinge of guilt living in the back of her mind. The letter, that she still had not had the chance to read, mind you, was still safely tucked away in her pocket. No less offering Marinette the all but tempting prospect of a promised future. The weightless paper, by all means of logic should have felt weightless, felt as though it weighed like lead. "I hear she was in a convent for the better part of her life, that would explain her fondness for song. Singing all those hymns, it would certainly leave an impression on me." Her Aunt, who was gaining a fondness for gossip, had whispered to her.
"So long as she can play the part as our confident but demure Soprano, I care not for where she gained a fondness." Marinette shrugged. "Still, don't you think that she may be a little too timid for the role of Lady Macbeth? She seems sweet as a lamb." Aunt Giry mused. "Just wait until you question her work ethic, she may seem sweet but she's rather fierce and determined." Marinette responded as she reached into her pocket once again and fiddled with the unread letter. "What is it that you have there?" Madame Giry pulled her gaze from the stage to Marinette's guilty hand. Much like a child Marinette wretched her hand from her pocket and held it in her lap. "N-nothing." She answered quickly. She cringed at her tone, she sounded like a naughty child who'd just been caught reaching into a tin of biscuits. "Marinette, I can obviously see it's not nothing. Is everything alright?" Her Aunt gave her a very meaningful and caring look, with a resigned groan Marinette turned to her aunt. "I can't lie to you, can you promise me you won't be cross with me?" Marinette gave her aunt a sweet hollow smile in hopes that she may sway her anger. "I will make no such promises." Madame Giry sat up rigidly, the image of Marinette's most beloved aunt had now transformed into the strict ballet dictator.
"I received another letter from the mysterious financier." Marinette outright said it. She figured she may as well rip off the band aid and resign to her fate. "Oh." Was her aunt's response. This left Marinette feeling perplexed. "That's all? You nearly chewed my head off the last time we received a letter from him." Madame Giry sighed, "Well I'm not mad, as I have assumed that you will no longer entertain this mystery person." Marinette chewed her lower lip and pulled the letter out. It beckoned her, begging that she break the red wax seal. This letter was a siren and she was its helpless victim. "You have refused this person?" Madame Giry eyed Marinette as she began to squirm under her gaze. "I haven't refused him per say…" Marinette's voice was small. "What?" Madame Girys' voice elevated and carried itself from their balcony seats to those below them. It had earned them some unwanted gazes and for a moment Madeline had even faltered in her set. "Keep your voice down!" Marinette hissed. "How could you not refuse him, after my warnings?" Madame Giry hissed back. "I am in no position to refuse any kind of financial help we can get." Marinette rubbed her temples. "We have Paquet and Hubert, that's more than enough." Her aunt motioned her head to the two men sitting in rapturous delight over Madeleines solo.
"They are our patrons, yes, however their funds only stretch so far. Between the costumes, the makeup, dance shoes, and everything else in between; we can't realistically rely on them alone. We still have to finish the lobby, the dormitories, and the outside of the opera house. Then there's the question of payment, we have to pay the bank, the builder, the actors, and dancers. I can't do it without this man's help." Marinette took a deep breath and prepared for another one of her aunt's outbursts. But curiously her aunt sat still in quiet thought, she almost looked statuesque. "I understand where you're coming from, but you're potentially doing business with the devil. You know nothing of this man and if he were to finance us you would lose a fraction of your deed." Her aunt chose her words carefully. "What does this letter entail?" She finally asked her niece. "I haven't gotten the chance to read it yet." Marinette ran her finger over the wax seal. "I will leave you to read it then, I need a cup of tea to calm my nerves. We will discuss this more once I've returned." Before Marinette could say anything else her aunt had swiftly stood from her seat and glided out the double doors behind them.
Marinette looked down at the letter and slowly began to lift the seal from the fine paper below it. With a deep breath she began to read:
Dear Mademoiselle Gippetti,
I am positive that you have received my previous letter, so I will take your lack of response as my answer. However, I have heard through the grapevine that you will be playing the role of hostess at a certain upcoming ball. I will be in attendance at this ball as it may be interesting to watch you flounder and offer yourself to non willing patrons. What a show that will be indeed. Almost better than the farce you've decided to put on your stage. Macbeth? Please. Despite my taunting being rather fun, that is not the purpose of this letter. No. I write to you to offer you one final chance to accept the offer of a lifetime. My generosity is gracious to those who accept, on my terms of course. As I stated I will be in attendance at your Midsummer ball. Should you accept my offer you can find me by identifying the red rose on my lapel. However, to further secure our privacy I shall give you a phrase you shall greet me with the following: Amor Vincit Omnia. Should you find me my response shall be: Not Cedamus Amori. Don't misinterpret this phrase, I wouldn't dream of professing love to the dour self proclaimed spinster. This phrase is simply to ward off anyone who may be prying into our conversation, listening to two "lovesick" party goers isn't at the top of anyone's list. Unlike my previous offer this one does have an expiration date. You have till midnight on the night of the ball. Don't be a fool. You know you need me mademoiselle, but I most certainly do not need you. Have a think about it?
Monsieur D
P.S. Hopefully your comprehension of Latin is better than that of your musical taste.
Marinette felt the rage flow through her veins, this man had a lot of cheeks! How dare he send her a threat thinly veiled as her salvation. She was going to find this mystery man and she was going to give him a good throttle. With her guilt gone and replaced with her rage another turn of phrase was now in its place. 'Keep your hand at the level of your eyes.'