The Phantom's Daughter

Chapter Seventeen

I gave Erik his information, telling it to Madeleine Giry, who would write it down for me and then give it to the Phantom of the Opera that night. She looked at me with a serious, arched eyebrow, trying to figure out how I got into this little game. Meg, her daughter, looked at me in wonder.

I went to sleep that night in the first level of the cellars, finding that the door was open just a crack, and that more old scene sets and some plywood were set in front of it, forcing me to climb, creep, and crawl to the door, but this was to ensure that it would take a lot of energy from a very curious person to find the door and sneak through. And if they were that curious, then they’d pay for their overly curious nature (“curiosity killed the cat” Erik told me. “Remember that.” “Yes, but satisfaction brought it back.” I replied to him, to which he squinted at me coldly, not liking my sass.)

Being careful to not disturb the barrier as I went to the door, I crawled in the cold dark space, but found a heaping piles of pillows and blankets set up for me. Gratefully, I tucked myself in, and happily fell asleep. But when I woke up in the morning, I would find myself in the big bed, beside the spare room, even warmer and more comfortable, sometimes with bread and cheese and water on the table beside me to eat, and sometimes in the quiet company of Erik in his little kitchenette area while he read the paper, his feet resting on the table, making it clear that he was in no mood for conversation.

This was an awkward and tense moments between us, and I boldly decided to ask once again why Erik brought me down here. He merely stated that it was a reward for continually surviving the traps (often I’d go back up without his aid) and for helping Madeleine and Meg Giry out with feeding him information, saying it in a very matter-of-fact way that I was not to keep on about it.

This led on for a week until the production of IL MUTO, a play about an unfaithful wife, and her lover that comes to see her, dressed as a woman. Erik the day before was busy at his desk, creating little scenes of the play, drawing the faces of Carlotta and Christine on the bodies of Countess and the Page Boy.

“I thought Carlotta was going to play Countess? She’s a better role for it anyhow; truly has Countess’ personality.” I remarked, standing beside him, curious. Erik turned to me in his chair and I took a large respectable step back from him, standing straight, arms to the side, making eye contact. Focused, but non-threatening, yet ready to run should he decide to strike.

Erik noted of my posture with his eyes, but said nothing of it, instead, addressed my comment. “To be a talented performer, little Rita, is to play all the masks that you wear, even if some are who you’re not in real life.” he adjusted the little figurines and continued. “Nobody cares that Carlotts’s personality fits the role of Countess—which you’re right—because it’s not about who's who. The Countess is the lead prima donna of the show.” he pointed to the figurines to demonstrate. “She gets all the lines, wears the brightest and most elaborate costume, and leads the audience through the play through song and dance. Which is why Carlotta needs to step down, and play the Page Boy. The Page Boy’s role is silent, and follows the Countess in her shadow. It’s a supporting role and a more humbling role. Christine on the other hand, needs to be known that she is up to the challenge of playing the lead continually. It’s a much bigger part than what she did last time; she only had one leading scene last time, and that was just the song, ‘Think of Me’. Since she’ll be playing a bigger part, and a character that is opposite of her own real character, this will make her a better performer, get her more experience, and exercise her vocals and nerve in a test. Make sense?” he turned back to me.

Boy, the man sure could monologue about his plays. He really had a heart for theatre. No wonder almost everyone in the Opera bent to his will. He was terrifying, but knew his stuff. I nodded.

“Good.” He seemed satisfied with my answer and turned back to work. “Now go tend to our horses.”

“But why does Monsieur Firmin and Andres then put Carlotta as the leading role for Countess then? Isn’t Christine easier to deal with anyways? She’s not a brat like Carlotta.”

I could see Erik sigh deeply—the kind that made your shoulders move up and down. The kind that was a sign of struggling to be patient. I took another step back. I’ve said too much and bothered him. But he turned around and spoke in the same gentle, but matter-of-fact tone. “Because those two i***t managers still have not quite gotten the concept of, one, this is my theatre, so I call the shots, and they manage it. And two, because they’re idiots who don’t know what’s good for them, or the cast, or the show. Carlotta has been on long enough and her tricks of her smiles, foreign accent and strutting around the stage are getting old. Christine deserves to rise to the top, like her former father wished.”

“How do you know what her father would have wanted? Isn’t he dead.”

This time, Erik didn’t turn around to face me and paused for a moment. I positioned my back foot, ready to turn and run. Stupid foolish me! I’ve grown soft from the warm bed and hot meal, I need to stop talking to him so comfortably. This was a serious, professional relationship we had!

“I’ve known Christine for a while now, and have known her father’s dying wish. Her father used to be a famous Swedish violinist, before he got sick and orphaned Christine. He made a promise to her that he’d see her rise to the top, so that she would never have to know poverty like they did. Now go. Take care of the horses. Now.”

I went, not bothering to ask why Christine and her father were poor if he was a well-known musician. Perhaps there were different kinds of famous. Erik for example, was famous in the Opera, yet he stayed hidden down here.

I fed Sweet Demon, cleaned the stalls, and then snuck in the back of the barn where it was abandoned to feed Erik’s horse, Reyer. Reyer was as tall as Sweet Demon and the same age, but while Sweet Demon was a light draft, with a long muscular body, thick legs, neck, and mane and tail, Reyer was a Thoroughbred, lean, and long, with skinny legs, and a shorter mane and tail. But like Sweet Demon, he didn’t have a speck of white on him. And he had Sweet Demon’s fiery temper too. But I would never let it be known to Erik that I was scared of this horse, even though he made me a little frightened. Nor would I show Reyer that I was nervous around him either. While he ate, I quickly picked his stall, careful to go around him, be quiet and talk softly. Horses were very smart animals and were sensitive at picking up how a human was feeling just by reading the subtle body language that sometimes we didn’t even know that we gave!

After I took care of Reyer, I went to lunge Sweet Demon. He was better today, but still tried to fight me a little and say hello to Maggie. But I remembered what Erik had taught me and kept on him, firm, but kind. I think we did alright. I praised him, treated him with a peppermint, and brushed him afterwards.

The morning of the production came. I once again woke up in Erik’s house, with a brand new set of clothes, all in black and my shoes he had given me from before. Erik gave me a little to eat and drink for breakfast, more fidgety than usual, I think he was excited to see Christine perform, and sent me off to see if I could catch any information from the cast or managers that Madeleine or Meg hadn’t gotten yet.

Everyone was running around like madmen. Even though the play wouldn’t be showing until evening, there was much to do. Last minute dress rehearsal, costume and scene fix ups, everyone knowing their place, and Madeleine insisted that the ballet girls and young women have one last rehearsal too. When Joseph Buquett tried to argue with her, she rounded on him with such fierceness, speaking fast, that her strong native tongue made it sound like she was speaking a different language, and raised her cane in threat. Joseph Buquett backed away very quickly. I laughed at him and pointed.

“You got told off by a girl! Haha!” oh what fire it sent in my bones to see a woman stick up for a man! Joseph Buquett spat in my direction and stormed off, and Madeleine quickly ushered me to her dresser room.

“You be aware of that man Rita! I know you are a tough little girl, but Joseph does not take kindly to being laughed at and is a little too grabby with the girls.” she warned me.

I didn’t know what she meant by being too grabby, nor why Joseph would want to try and pick fights with the young women if they didn’t do anything wrong and amused him when he played jokes on them or told them rumors of Erik’s face. But I had no time to ask. I was set down, but immediately when Madeleine left, I got up again and went to go collect some information. I gasped when I heard who the casting was.

Carlotta was playing the lead role! Erik had told the managers the day prior that Christine would be playing it and that their monthly rent was due—Erik had them pay him 20,000 francs a month. (Had to raise it recently since it seems he’s a child to feed and clothe, he had stated and I grumbled that I didn’t ask for his care, to which he ignored).

I raced around to find him, even going back down to his home carefully but he wasn’t there. I panicked…Erik needed to know what was going on! As quickly as I could, I raced back up the cellars, back to the Opera House, looking and calling in all the shadows and crevices and closets. But he wasn’t there??? Was he really a ghost and evaporated?

Wait! I stopped on stage and looked up. The Rafters. He must be there…I had searched low, but I hadn’t searched high.

“GET OFF THE STAGE!” someone hollered at me. The play would start soon. People were running around in costumes, the stage curtain was closed, and the audience was talking in low excited rumble outside. I sprinted and climbed up.

“Erik!” I whispered, scurrying the thin, arguably unstable rafters high in the air. Joseph Buquett caught sight of me once, but I ran away quickly before he could confirm it was me. Besides, he was supposed to be at his post.

I bumped into a large figure, who caught me and covered my mouth before I could accidently cry out. He lowered his hand and silently demanded to know what I was doing up here. I hastily told him that the managers hadn’t changed the casting, and that the Victome de Changy was in Box 5! That was Erik’s box! This was the second time this had happened.

Erik nodded solemnly and my shoulders drooped. I had failed; he had already known. But he bent down to my level. “Good little mademoiselle! Now go distract Joseph Buquett so he doesn’t see me! I’m going to show them what it means to defy the Phantom of the Opera!”

He sent me off with a gentle push and I all but skipped away, excited for this important job, to see what Erik would do, and to keep Joseph Buquett from knowing. Oh I did love working for the one, whom everyone thought was the villain!