Chapter Three
Jenny could barely contain her
excitement as Raoul's carriage pulled up in front of the elegant restaurant
known as Rose Noire. This place
certainly looked as though its fare should be far beyond better than the
tasteless meals she'd been forced to choke down during her long voyage to
France. She briefly smoothed a hand
over the skirt of her borrowed dress from the costume department of the
Opera.
Christine had discreetly (and rather
apologetically) explained to her that this restaurant was classy and would not
admit her in her present travel dress.
After realizing that the clothes on her back and a few similarly worn
and dirty sets in her sack were all Jenny owned, Christine had whisked her away
to the Opera's costumer, pleading with the elderly woman to find something
suitable for her newfound friend to wear.
Fifteen minutes, a quick wash, a hairbrush, and one pale pink dress
later, Jenny was ready to brave the crème de la crème of the Black Rose
patrons.
"Here we are, ladies."
Raoul announced proudly, stepping out of the carriage and offering each woman
his hand to help them descend. Jenny's
eyes went wide as they approached the entrance of the restaurant. How many times had she envisioned herself
stepping out of a carriage in a pretty dress, intent on entering a first-class
restaurant where champagne and fine wines flowed freely, if somewhat expensively? Only one thing was missing from this lovely
moment; a man who loved her.
Tears suddenly threatened to overflow her eyes at the
memory, or lack thereof. The only
men
who loved her were the heroes of her romances, whichever one she happened to be
reading at the time. Although she
thought she should be grateful for whatever she could get, she wanted so much
more than the pages of a simple book to warm her heart.
Not now, Jenny, she commanded herself, automatically straightening her
posture in the
face
of the Black Rose's distinguished guests.
The rich and titled were literally everywhere, some greeting Raoul with
a nod of the head or a polite curtsey, but all staring at her, Meg, and
Christine with curiosity and perhaps a bit of scorn. This was their territory and apparently strangers were not
well-tolerated by the resident wealthy.
Ladies in exquisite gowns of satins, silks, and velvets looked down
their noses at the three theater chits, dressed in serviceable wool and
cottons. Gentlemen in pressed and
well-tailored dress blacks and whites looked on with either blatant hunger for
an easy catch or barely-veiled anger that they would dare show their faces
here. However, not one of them dared to
impede their progress with a cutting remark or other open hostility, for the Vicomte
de Changy was well respected and, indeed, even well liked among the
Parisian socialites.
Christine and Meg ignored the stares, or at least
appeared to, holding their heads high
and
smiling like victorious conspirators once they were inside. Jenny followed their example, concentrating
on acting like she was the daughter of some real estate tycoon back home or a
local debutante of the region rather than the no-account seamstress and
opera-hopeful that she actually was.
Raoul greeted their server by name and immediately secured the best
table in the house for their dining pleasures.
Before even sitting down, the handsome nobleman ordered some champagne
for their table. Meg and Jenny
exchanged impressed glances as he seated Christine with all of the grandeur
normally afforded to some duchess or princess.
Jenny turned down Raoul's offer of seating her as well in what she hoped
was a courteous manner, preferring to seat herself so as not to draw attention
to herself or her less-than-perfect figure.
Meg did the same, blushing prettily at the dashing, young waiter after
he mumbled some comment about beautiful dancers needing no help in sitting
gracefully.
Jenny quickly hid behind her huge
menu, wishing that she'd had more practice at being in these luxurious
situations. The only other time that
she'd had to struggle with more than one fork had been years ago at her Aunt
Victoria's wedding to a rich gold-prospector in California. She squinted at the tiny script of the
specials, tying to decipher the spidery writing and the difficult French. The dim candlelight on their table made it
impossible to see the menu properly, so she resigned herself to simply ordering
the same thing as one of her fellow dinner companions.
The waiter returned in record time
with the chilled champagne, offering Raoul an obligatory sip of the expensive
"pride of France" before pouring the girls' glasses full. Jenny simply stared at the rosy-hued liquid
in the fluted glass for a minute, not yet daring to take a sip. Alcohol was an as-yet-untasted experience
and she was decidedly hesitant, knowing how most people acted under the
influence of spirits.
"Come on then, mademoiselle
Black... this is a celebration." Raoul stated jovially, realizing that his
newest guest hadn't taken a sip yet.
"Celebration?" Jenny
repeated, looking up at him inquisitively.
"Of what, monsieur le vicomte?"
"Of your imminent placement
within the Opera's world-class cast." he saluted her with his half-empty
glass. Christine and Meg both smiled
brightly and did the same.
Jenny wasn't used to such kindness
to her and blushed furiously, looking down at her empty plate shyly. "Do you honestly think I got in?"
"Oh, certainly!" Christine
nodded. "The management would have
to be stupid, deaf, and insane to have not hired you at least in the
chorus."
Jenny smiled and finally raised her
glass as well. "And to you
three... for being my first friends in a new country... my first friends
period, in most respects."
"First friends, period?"
Christine repeated casting a concerned glance at her. "How do you mean?"
"Well..." Jenny sighed,
aware that she had just condemned herself to a painful explanation. "I have never been... very popular...
among my peers. Most people tend to
ignore me or make fun of me."
"You'll find things a little
different at the Opera." Meg patted Jenny's shoulder comfortingly. "I think people will like you better
here because you're an excellent singer and you have great potential as a prima
donna, as Monsieur Andre would say."
"That reminds me... which one
is which?" Jenny asked, toying with her glass after taking an experimental
sip and finding it rather good.
"The managers, you mean?"
Meg asked. "Monsieur Andre
is the younger one."
"So... Andre's the one who
drools over Signora Carlotta and Richard is the one who thinks she belongs with
the rest of the peacocks... at the zoological gardens?" Jenny asked with a
grin.
"That's about it." Raoul
nodded.
"Heavens, how did that woman
ever manage to become the prima donna?
For lack of a better phrase, she overacts so badly it hurts."
Christine shook her head. "And she
overshoots every single note, her diction is completely wrong, and she strains
to reach anything above a middle C."
Meg stared at Christine with wide
eyes. "Been listening to her too
much, have you?"
Christine shrugged, suddenly
uncomfortable. "Not really. I just... my tutor... he said that... well,
that's his opinion."
"Your mysterious teacher
again?" Raoul sighed, looking annoyed for the first time since Jenny had
met him. "I do wish you wouldn't
keep things like this from me... us.
What could possibly be the harm in telling us about him?"
"How can I tell you who he is
when I don't even know myself?" Christine said with a light-hearted
tone, but Jenny could detect a strain of uneasiness in her voice.
"Very well... none of my
concern, I know." Raoul raised his hands in self-defense. "You'll tell me when you feel you
can... and I'll wait."
Christine looked at Raoul with such regret
in her eyes that Jenny felt sorry for her; a somewhat unusual feeling since she
was used to feeling sorry for herself.
Compelled to help, she laid a hand on Christine's slim shoulder. "Listen, whatever it is… it's certainly
nothing worth fighting over, right?"
"Quite correct, mademoiselle."
Raoul nodded, all traces of irritation gone.
"Thank you." Christine
smiled. "You know, I only met you
a few hours ago and yet... I've got such a good feeling about you. I think you're going to fit in just fine
with us."
"Me too." Meg agreed. "The more the merrier."
"Oh, you just want me to put
Carlotta in her place a few more times." Jenny grinned, feeling more at
home with these people than she had anywhere else in more than a year.
"Yes, please." Meg giggled. "That's the first time I've seen anyone
put that cow in her place, as you said.
You're sure to have made a permanent enemy out of her, which may cause a
few difficulties... but if you have the ghost on your side, that won't matter a
bit."
Christine and Raoul both sighed and
rolled their eyes in unison at Meg's mention of the ghost. "For Heaven's sake, Meg... you're
obsessed! It's always 'the ghost-this'
and 'the ghost-that'... just once can we spend an evening without hearing about
him?" Christine pleaded.
"I was merely pointing out that
he has more influence over the managers than Carlotta does." Meg
raised her hands in self-defense.
"In that case I hope he does
like me then." Jennifer was prepared to play along with this ongoing
belief in some sort of maniacal poltergeist with divine powers of persuasion
over the managers and homicidal tendencies.
"Enough... no more ghosts or
mysterious tutors or annoying divas, please?" Raoul smiled despite
himself.
"Very well, I promise."
Meg shrugged with a mock-pout.
"Now then, I do have an
ultimate motive for asking you all to dinner tonight." Raoul took a deep
breath, reaching into his jacket pocket for something. "I need you two as witnesses."
"Witnesses? Are you planning on committing a crime in the
near future?" Jenny smiled, quickly guessing at what was about to occur.
"Not unless proposing marriage
is a crime." he said softly, revealing a small velvet box of the jeweler's
sort. With traditional uneasiness, he
lifted the lid of the box and Jenny heard Christine give a small gasp.
"Will you marry me,
Christine?" he asked in a slightly trembling voice. "I know it's a little sudden, but... I
love you."
Meg and Jenny exchanged looks with
each other and then nodded frantically at Christine, who appeared to be too
shocked to answer right away. Raoul
shifted nervously in light of Christine's silence.
"Raoul... what will your
brother say?" Christine asked, her eyes smiling brilliantly despite her
serious question.
"I'm the one who wants to marry
you, not my brother... if he's worried about the family bloodlines, then he
can marry some rich heiress. I want you
for my wife. And if you're worried
about your voice teacher's certain disapproval, than I'll settle for a
long-term engagement. Whatever you
want, Christine, will be yours... anything at all."
"I... I don't know what to
say..." she whispered.
"Say 'yes'?" he suggested
anxiously.
She smiled up at him, her blue eyes
sparkling happily. "Yes." she
nodded. "Yes, yes, yes..."
Jenny and Meg applauded as Christine
kissed Raoul happily on the cheek, her hands clinging to his in an affectionate
hold. A crash from behind, interrupted
Jenny's claps, luring her attention towards the suspicious sounds. Near a back entrance, she thought she saw a
man in black fleeing the restaurant.
Probably a thief or something, she figured, caught stealing a loaf of
bread. However, a few seconds later,
every diner present was silenced by an unearthly howl from outside, a cry borne
of a heart dying from anguish. Christine
went white at the sound and Jenny found herself holding her breath in
expectation.
"It... it's the ghost!"
Meg mouthed, unable to make a sound.
"Don't be silly, Meg."
Jenny scolded, not all that sure herself.
"It was probably a... um... a dog or something."
"That was no animal..."
Christine whispered. "It was him!"
"Him? Him who?" Jenny tried to make a joke to lighten the
conspicuously dark mood, unsuccessfully.
"The ghost again, or your tutor?"
"Maestro!" Christine
whimpered, holding onto Raoul's arms tightly.
"Maestro?" Raoul repeated
the word. "Your teacher?"
The cry echoed through the dining
room again, causing gasps and whispers all around. Jenny turned to face the nearest window, searching the darkening
city for some sign of that cry's source.
It was heart wrenching, the sound of a heart being torn in two; a sound
that Jenny knew well. Although she kept
her cries silent for the most part, she was well aware of the pain that had
provoked a scream like that. Her heart
had howled its own tears to Heaven more than once.
She had no idea as to what manner of
man made those awful sounds now, she knew not what had caused them. But one thing was certain, she already felt
a sort of pitying kinship with the instrument of those mournful cries vibrating
through the streets of the old city.
Oh, my friend, she prayed,
running from her seat to the nearest window, unmindful of the breech of
etiquette it was to leave the table unexcused.
She squinted through the startlingly clean pane of glass, her green eyes
searching the dark streets for any movement that could be the tortured
being. I know you... I know your
heart…I know your pain. If I could help
you, I would. Dear Lord, please...
whoever's heart is bleeding tonight, let me tend to those wounds which I know
only too well. Lead me to the one whose
spirit is dying for want of love and give me the strength to heal that spirit.
With only a quick glance back at Christine, Jenny
rushed back through the restaurant, trying the claw her way through the crowds
outside. Maybe he was still nearby...
maybe she could find him and... then what?
She paused on the street outside, looking left and right, again
scrutinizing the black streets.
A soft sound from behind a nearby
tree caught her attention, although if she hadn't been looking for it, she
wouldn't have noticed. A shadow shifted
and she drew closer, certain that someone was hiding in the gloom.
"Hello? Is someone there? Can I help you?" she asked, creeping slowly closer, close
enough to see the glitter of bright eyes, glossed over with tears.
"Go away!" a harsh voice
growled at her, making her jump.
"I need no help! Not from
you, not from anyone! Leave me alone!"
"Please, sir... I just want to
help you. You sound hurt." Jenny
tried again, in a gentler, less-demanding tone. Her grandfather had always told her never to confront a wounded
animal, only to talk to it in a low, soothing voice. Perhaps the same peaceable attitude would gain some ground with
this man as well.
"Jenny!" a voice called
behind her, making her turn quickly to see Christine running up to her. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"
"No... I'm fine. I just... " Jenny assured her, turning
back only to find that the mysterious shadow had disappeared as if it had never
been there.
"What?" Jenny spun around
the tree, thoroughly perplexed. There
was no place he could've run too that quickly and certainly she would've heard
him move if he had.
"Jenny, what are you doing out
here?" Christine asked, concerned by her new friend's suddenly
unresponsive attitude to questions.
"I- he... he was out
here." Jenny babbled. "The
man who yelled before... he was here in the shadows. But, he's gone."
"You're crying." Christine
pointed out, biting her lip and putting a hand on Jenny's shoulder, her eyes
showing anxiety as she too searched the darkness.
Jenny raised a hand to her cheek,
surprised to encounter a wet streak.
She hadn't even noticed when she began to cry. "That scream... he's in pain." she stuttered.
"I know." Christine
nodded. "It's my fault... I hurt
him."
Jenny turned at last, confused. "You?
You know who that was?"
"Yes, I do... but, please don't
ask me who. I can't tell you."
Christine looked down, hiding her tell-all eyes from Jenny's sight.
"I only wanted to help him...
but he wouldn't let me." Jenny commented, accepting Christine vague
excuses for now.
"Yes, I know." Christine
nodded, leading Jenny back into the restaurant where Raoul and Meg waited in
bewilderment.