The door to the library was closed. Matilda, however, had learned the best tricks as how to listen through doors from her older sister.
"Christine, you of all people know just how important it is to stay in practice," Ada, Phantasma's ballet choreographer, sat her empty tea cup down on the coffee table.
"That I do," Christine stated aimlessly stirring her new cup of tea. "I was never the best. Constantly being yelled at for having my head in the clouds. I am forever grateful Erik discovered my voice." She looked up at her husband and smiled.
"Matilda needs more than practice," Ada continued. "She needs more training…"
"More advance training," Emily, the ballet mistress in charge of teaching the younger girls, cut in. She nervously pushed the copper curl of her chignon behind her ears. "I have never taught a girl so young that is so advance. As you know she is already en pointe. A couple of instructors from Ballets Russes are in New York starting a company. One of them worked with Anna Pavlova."
"How do you know these things?" Erik folded his arms across his chest.
"They asked me to come work for them, sir," Emily sat up taller. "They remembered seeing my dancing in London, when I was a private pupil of Madame Taglioni."
Erik laughed, "You mean a Russian school wants to hire a French school instructor?"
"Talent is talent, sir you know that," Ada gave Mr. Y a stern glare.
"Matilda could benefit being part of their company. I wanted to discuss taking her with me."
"Take her with you?" The cup in Christine's hand shook. "What the Devil do you mean?"
Matilda, in a plie, so her ear could be at the keyhole, gasped in excitement. A new company? Learning from not only Madame Taglioni's teacher but Madame Pavolva's as well?
Emily looked towards the slightly older ballet mistress. Ada nodded. Emily stood up, "Mr. and Mrs. Y, Matilda needs this. You have a wonderful dance program here, but it will never fulfill the needs of your daughter. Under the instruction of the academy, she could be the next Anna Pavlova. Matilda has the dance talent that is equivalate of Mrs. Y's singing talent. Only you do not see it because you leave the poor girl to her own devices! She is the only one of your children with a level head, who stays out of trouble! When she's not in class, she's practicing and asking me for more instruction, or reading!" The copper hair woman took a deep breath. "Do you even know as her parents that she wants a tutor instead of going back to school so she can spend more time on her dance? That's why she reads so much. She's trying to get ahead."
The next Anna Pavlova? Me! Oh I do have a similar frame! The young girl smiled to herself.
"Are you saying I do not understand my daughter, Emily?" Christine sat her cup down calmly. "That I ignore her? That I do not recognize her talent? I must admit some of our other children do demand more of our attention than others as they each have their own temperament. But you are not privy to what happens behind the closed doors of this house every night. Or our family life in the off season. How dare you come in here and assume you know what's best for my daughter!"
Lost in listening to the conversation, Matilda did not notice her older sister walking up to her, "And what are we doing?"
"Shh! You'll ruin it!" Matilda snapped in a whisper.
"Ruin what?" Charlotte did not lower her voice.
Matilda raised herself out of the plie and yanked on her sister hand pulling her down the hall away from the door.
"Ouch! Be careful! That's my bad wrist!" Charlotte exclaimed following her sister's tug.
"I told you to be quiet!" Matilda snapped. "Now go be loud elsewhere."
Back in the library, Erik looked up from watching his wife and the ballet mistress argue. He turned his head to the door hearing voices beyond it. "Excuse me," He walked swiftly to the door and threw it open. "What is the matter out here?"
"I knew you'd ruin it!" Matilda snapped tossing her sister's arm back to her.
"Ouch!" Charlotte rubbed her wrist with her other hand. "You knew that was bad wrist, Tilta!"
"What did Charlotte ruin, Matilda?" Erik walked out into the hallway and up to his daughters. "You eavesdropping onto adult conversations?"
"Like you do not same, Papa," Matilda stood up straight in first position and looked right at her father.
Having no response to his youngest daughter, he turned his attention to his oldest. He looked her up and down, "And what is the meaning of this? Make up and you're not performing…and is that one your evening dresses?"
"And she didn't do a very good job with it," Matilda rolled her eyes. "I would never been seen with my kohl that smudged."
"I was crying!"
Christine stormed out into the hallway upon hearing her daughters, "Enough! You both know this is not proper behavior. Especially when there are guests here."
Emily gracefully walked into the hallway, only standing right outside the parlor door. She stood tall, her hands clasped at her waist, "You were saying, Mrs. Y about how you understand your daughter?"
The moment Christine spun around, her blue eyes ablaze, Emily nodded her head, "I shall see myself out. Ada, we are done for the day!"
As the ballet mistresses walked by, Christine snapped, "We will call on you."
"Miss Emily!" Matilda exclaimed following her teacher down the hall. "I will walk you out."
The copper haired lady smiled at the girl, "I appreciate it, but please return to your parents."
Matilda took a deep breath and turned around; the faces of her parents had softened. Charlotte's arms were crossed and she looked down at the floor. As she approached them, the ballerina went to her sister first, "I am sorry, Charlotte. I should not have pulled your bad wrist. You were not doing anything wrong."
"Thank you," Charlotte looked up at her sister.
"Now go clean up your face and change," Erik patted his oldest daughter's shoulder. "We shall talk later."
You nice, Lottie don't lose that. Rasputin's words echoed in her head. They calmed her, told her not to storm off. "I will be in my room waiting." Charlotte calmly walked up the stairs leaving her parents looking at each other perplexed.
"Is what Emily said true, Matilda?" Christine's words came out in a squeak as she fidgeted with her wedding band. "Do I really not know what you want?"
"I know I wasn't supposed to be listening to that conversation, but if what Miss Emily says is true about the new company, I would like to be a part of it." She turned and looked at her father, "Papa, the world knows you run a wonderful theatre but even you have to admit your dance is not on par with your music. Think about it. Think back to when you first met Mama. You didn't deny her voice lessons when you heard her potential. Now would you deny me the same just because it's dance and not singing?"
Christine opened her mouth to speak but Matilda cut her off, "It's not different, Mama just because your parents were dead. I would still be in the city. I could come home on the weekends, or maybe three days. Wouldn't you love to have not only the best amusement park, theatre, opera singer wife, but one of your daughters be known as a world class ballerina?" She threw her arms around The Phantom, "Papa, please?"
Erik chuckled as he ran his hand over his youngest daughter's hair before kissing her head, "Emily was right, you are the leveled headed one and we've been so wrong to leave you to your own devices. I guess it's because you never caused any trouble we knew you would be fine and would tell us if you weren't."
"I am telling you now. I want to go to that academy," She looked up at her father and then over at her mother, "Please."
Tears in her eyes, Christine pulled her daughter and husband into her arms. "Oh my dear, Tilta! You've always been my blithe child! Reminding me so much of my father. And I've taken that for granted. How can I possibly deny you this? We will talk to Emily again about this and this time we will have you in the room."