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charleygirlTitle: The Garish Light of Day 34/?
Author: charleygirl
Word Count: 2182
Rating: G
Genre: General, Drama
Characters Involved: Erik the Phantom, Christine Daae, Madame Giry, Monsieur Reyer
Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is the creation of Gaston Leroux but probably these days copyright to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Summary: Monsieur Marigny has some anouncements to make.
ANNOUNCEMENTS... AND A REVELATION
“Ah, Mesdemoiselles, Monsieur, so glad you could join us,” Marigny said dryly as the latecomers filed into place. Christine was blushing; Erik looked pale and uncomfortable at being faced with almost the entire staff of the theatre knowing that they would have read Béringer’s article, and Madame Giry saw Christine surreptitiously reach for his hand. In contrast Theodora Merriman held her head high, a smile lurking around her lips as though she found being scolded like a tardy schoolgirl highly amusing. Meg scuttled into line with the other ballerinas, evidently hoping that her mother wouldn’t have noticed her absence. The manager harrumphed and turned back to his assembled artistes. “As I was saying, Monsieur Fontaine and I would like to officially welcome Signor Rossi - ” The Italian bowed but barely twitched a smile “and Mademoiselle Merriman to the Opera Populaire. I am sure you will all agree that they will be an asset to our company.”
There was a smattering of applause, above which Antoinette heard Marius mutter to Alphonse, “That remains to be seen.” The baritone nodded.
“After considerable consultation with the Marquis de Borges, we have decided upon our next production,” Marigny continued. “This will go into rehearsals next week, while Rigoletto is still playing. The notices have been extremely favourable, and we can expect all of the advertised performances to be sold out. I hope that we can rely upon you all to ensure that the quality remains as high for the remainder of the run.” He glanced round, first at Reyer and then at Erik. “I am sure that our director of music and our chorus master will allow nothing less.”
“While we are on the subject,” Fontaine interjected, earning himself a frown of annoyance from his partner, “I would like to mention that we have extended an invitation to Monsieur Claudin to join the Populaire on a permanent basis. Monsieur Reyer is quite happy to remain in charge of the orchestra and so we hope,” he added, shooting a smile in Erik’s direction, “that Monsieur Claudin will find it possible to overcome the appalling slight given by one member of this company and accept our offer.”
“As do I,” said Mademoiselle Merriman, much to everyone’s surprise. She looked at Rossi. “I don’t know about you, Antonio, but I certainly want to work with the man behind the voices in Rigoletto. If I hadn’t heard Friday’s performance I would be on a boat back to New York by now.”
Rossi’s lips lifted almost imperceptibly; if he was indeed smiling the gesture was lost beneath his curled black moustache. “Quite so, Signorina.”
“We’d like you to stay on, too, Monsieur,” Alphonse said, stepping forwards. “And we want you to know that Augustine doesn’t speak for the rest of us. Your face doesn’t matter here; this is a theatre after all, and we’re all hiding behind one mask or another.”
There was a chorus of ‘hear hear’ from many of the assembled and Madame Giry nodded in approval. Everyone looked expectantly at Erik. Evidently rather overcome by this unexpected public display of support, he turned pink around the ears and seemed unable to speak for some moments. At last, encouraged by Christine, who murmured in his ear and squeezed his hand lovingly, he cleared his throat and said, his magnificent voice somewhat rough around the edges, “Thank you. I would be very happy to remain with the Populaire.”
With an unladylike squeal of delight Marie Durant led a round of enthusiastic applause which was brought to a halt by Marigny raising an impatient hand.
“Now that we have such formalities out of the way, I would like to announce that we wish to vary the tone of the season somewhat and to that end we will be presenting a new production of Die Fledermaus by Strauss. I believe that Mademoiselle Merriman has had some success in the role of Rosalinde on the London stage.” Theodora inclined her head, and the manager continued, “The roles will therefore be cast as follows: Rosalinde von Eisenstein: Mademoiselle Merriman; Gabriel von Eisenstein, her husband: Monsieur DuPre. Signor Rossi will play Alfred, the singing teacher who is also Rosalinde’s lover. Mademoiselle Daae will take on the role of Adele, Rosalinde’s maid. Messieurs Renard and Giordano will play Doctor Falk and Doctor Blind respectively. The role of Prince Orlofsky will be taken by Mademoiselle Durant.”
“Understudies will be selected by Messieurs Reyer and Claudin, and they will of course provide you all with a copy of the libretto,” said Fontaine. “As this piece does not contain a ballet we will be calling upon Monsieur Reyer to compose a new piece with which to open Act II, which Madame Giry will naturally choreograph.”
Reyer looked a little taken aback at being asked to write such an important piece at short notice. “If you say so, Monsieur,” he said, scratching his head and making his bowler hat jig up and down. “Perhaps I might prevail upon Monsieur Claudin to assist me?”
“A collaboration? Excellent!” Fontaine exclaimed before Erik could even open his mouth. He clapped his hands together. “That’s all settled then. I think we can leave you to your rehearsal, eh, Claude?”
Marigny shuffled through the papers he held, scrutinizing one or two closely before finally nodding. The managers departed, stopping only for Marigny to tell Erik that they would need him to return to the office at some point during the day to sign a contract. Once they were gone, the buzz of conversation descended upon the stage like a swarm of excited bees.
“A leading role! I can’t believe it!” Marie cried, astonished. For a moment the mezzo looked as though she might faint but thankfully recovered herself. Madame Giry was grateful; she knew that singers could be over-emotional but to have two of them swooning in the space of an hour would be rather too much.
Christine smiled. “You deserve it after all the time you’ve spent in the chorus.”
“Oh, but Orlofsky should have gone to you, Christine!” Marie said. “You look so well in male costume and you deserve it far more than me. I’ve always been quite happy to remain in the background.”
“Don’t be so silly,” Christine told her. “After singing Gilda I’m more than content with a smaller part. Besides, I’ll be understudying Rosalinde and that will be quite enough work. Especially,” she added glancing at Erik, “with such an exacting teacher.”
“I have never pushed you to any heights you were not capable of scaling, my dear,” he replied, recovering some of his poise now that he was not being observed by everyone in the room.
“They all say that,” said Theodora Merriman, arching an eyebrow. “Then they wonder why you’re a nervous wreck every time you step on stage.”
“Oh, Er – Monsieur Claudin is nothing like that!” Christine replied hurriedly, catching herself as she realised others were listening to the conversation. Antoinette wondered exactly when she and Erik intended to announce their engagement to the company at large; it would not stay hidden as long as a diamond ring adorned Christine’s finger. “He is most considerate.”
A mischievous smile quirked the new diva’s lips, and Madame Giry found herself wishing to know what had gone on in that dressing room in her absence. “I’m sure he is, sweetheart,” Theodora said with a wink, making Christine flush prettily.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have some order..!” Monsieur Reyer called from the pit, banging his baton on the music stand. “This is meant to be a rehearsal and there are one or two minor kinks we need to iron out before tonight’s performance!”
No one took any heed, too busy gossiping. The ballet rats were in a huddle, chattering away and occasionally looking over their shoulders to where Christine stood with Erik and Mademoiselle Merriman. Reyer, rolling his eyes in despair, shot a pleading glance towards Antoinette. As always, she did not need to say a word; all it took to achieve silence was the swift, precise thump of her cane on the boards. At the sound her dancers shuffled into formation like well-drilled soldiers. Even Marius put away his hip flask and stood to attention.
“Thank you,” Reyer said with a deep sigh of relief. “Now, if we could go over the opening of Act I, with just the Duke and Rigoletto. Messieurs Renard and DuPre..?”
Alphonse and Marius submitted to the musical director’s demands, taking their places while Reyer drilled the orchestra. Erik remained on the sidelines, divining as Madame Giry did that it was the musicians who really needed the rehearsal; the new first bassoon and third trombone were still finding their feet. Antoinette directed the ballerinas towards the wings, where they stood in a neat line; it did not take long for the whispering to begin again, however, and she fixed the perpetrators with a gimlet stare.
“Giselle! Hortense!” she snapped, and the two jumped guiltily. “If you find something of such importance that you cannot leave it for even a moment, perhaps you would care to share it with the rest of us.”
“It’s nothing, Madame Giry,” Hortense said. “We were - ”
“We were just wondering if Christine would let us see her ring,” Giselle interrupted breathlessly. “It’s so pretty, and I think she’s so lucky to have Monsieur Claudin as a fiancé – ow!” She broke off with a squeal as Hortense kicked her in the shins.
“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Theodora observed. “Just as well you were intending to come clean anyway.”
“We couldn’t hope to keep it to ourselves for long,” Christine told Erik, who sighed.
“Now everyone will think you get your roles because of nepotism,” he muttered.
“That’s hardly likely, unless there’s something you’re not telling us and Monsieur Fontaine is actually the one who proposed,” said Theodora, amused.
Christine giggled, and squeezed Erik’s hand. “No more secrets, remember?” she asked. He nodded wearily, and she turned to Antoinette. “If you don’t mind, Madame..?”
Madame Giry waved a hand in assent and Christine approached the ballet rats, who fell into a chorus of ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s over her engagement ring. “She’s right,” she said quietly to Erik. “There was no way to keep it between yourselves unless you wanted her to wear the ring around her neck like she did with the vicomte’s.”
“Nothing was further from my mind,” he replied sharply. “We have nothing to hide.”
“And of course it tells the world that she is yours.” He glared at her, and she just smirked, knowing full well how much he must be enjoying the feeling that Christine was finally his and his alone. There was a possessive streak in him that had obviously grown from having to cling to those things he held dear lest they were wrenched away; after so many years in selfish solitude it would take a very long time to cure him of such a trait.
“Sorry to break up this little party,” Theodora Merriman said, startling them both. Neither had even noticed her absence, but now she stood before them having evidently crossed the stage and fetched Signor Rossi from where he had been lurking in the wings, watching proceedings with a bored eye. He was a head shorter than Erik but still towered over her, his brooding presence giving the impression that a hawk had decided to keep company with a wren. “I wanted to introduce you both to Antonio. He and I have sung together several times, in Covent Garden and at La Scala. You really should ask him for a sample of his Corrado sometime.” She kissed her fingers. “Sublime!”
“Incantato, Signora,” Rossi murmured as he bent over Antoinette’s hand. He nodded to Erik, the gesture no more than a jerk of the head. “Signor.”
“Is this your first time on the Paris stage, Signor?” Madame Giry enquired. There was something familiar about his dark eyes; she felt sure she had seen him somewhere before. She glanced at Erik and saw that he was frowning, as though he were thinking the same thing.
Rossi shook his head. “No, I have spent the majority of my career in Italy. In recent years I spent five seasons in London.”
“You speak very good French, if I may say so,” Erik remarked. “Unusual for a man who has not lived in France.”
The tenor dismissed the comment with a wave. “I have an excellent ear for languages. It is helpful in this profession; I have sung many French operas.”
“What made you choose to join us here at the Populaire?” asked Antoinette, curious.
“I desired a change. I also wished to see for myself whether everything I had been told about the Paris Opera was true.”
Madame Giry exchanged a glance with Erik. “You have heard stories about us?”
“But of course, Signora. My half sister was Prima Donna here for many years,” Rossi replied. He paused before adding, “You must surely have worked with her: she is the celebrated Carlotta Giudicelli.”
Author: charleygirl
Word Count: 2182
Rating: G
Genre: General, Drama
Characters Involved: Erik the Phantom, Christine Daae, Madame Giry, Monsieur Reyer
Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is the creation of Gaston Leroux but probably these days copyright to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Summary: Monsieur Marigny has some anouncements to make.
“Ah, Mesdemoiselles, Monsieur, so glad you could join us,” Marigny said dryly as the latecomers filed into place. Christine was blushing; Erik looked pale and uncomfortable at being faced with almost the entire staff of the theatre knowing that they would have read Béringer’s article, and Madame Giry saw Christine surreptitiously reach for his hand. In contrast Theodora Merriman held her head high, a smile lurking around her lips as though she found being scolded like a tardy schoolgirl highly amusing. Meg scuttled into line with the other ballerinas, evidently hoping that her mother wouldn’t have noticed her absence. The manager harrumphed and turned back to his assembled artistes. “As I was saying, Monsieur Fontaine and I would like to officially welcome Signor Rossi - ” The Italian bowed but barely twitched a smile “and Mademoiselle Merriman to the Opera Populaire. I am sure you will all agree that they will be an asset to our company.”
There was a smattering of applause, above which Antoinette heard Marius mutter to Alphonse, “That remains to be seen.” The baritone nodded.
“After considerable consultation with the Marquis de Borges, we have decided upon our next production,” Marigny continued. “This will go into rehearsals next week, while Rigoletto is still playing. The notices have been extremely favourable, and we can expect all of the advertised performances to be sold out. I hope that we can rely upon you all to ensure that the quality remains as high for the remainder of the run.” He glanced round, first at Reyer and then at Erik. “I am sure that our director of music and our chorus master will allow nothing less.”
“While we are on the subject,” Fontaine interjected, earning himself a frown of annoyance from his partner, “I would like to mention that we have extended an invitation to Monsieur Claudin to join the Populaire on a permanent basis. Monsieur Reyer is quite happy to remain in charge of the orchestra and so we hope,” he added, shooting a smile in Erik’s direction, “that Monsieur Claudin will find it possible to overcome the appalling slight given by one member of this company and accept our offer.”
“As do I,” said Mademoiselle Merriman, much to everyone’s surprise. She looked at Rossi. “I don’t know about you, Antonio, but I certainly want to work with the man behind the voices in Rigoletto. If I hadn’t heard Friday’s performance I would be on a boat back to New York by now.”
Rossi’s lips lifted almost imperceptibly; if he was indeed smiling the gesture was lost beneath his curled black moustache. “Quite so, Signorina.”
“We’d like you to stay on, too, Monsieur,” Alphonse said, stepping forwards. “And we want you to know that Augustine doesn’t speak for the rest of us. Your face doesn’t matter here; this is a theatre after all, and we’re all hiding behind one mask or another.”
There was a chorus of ‘hear hear’ from many of the assembled and Madame Giry nodded in approval. Everyone looked expectantly at Erik. Evidently rather overcome by this unexpected public display of support, he turned pink around the ears and seemed unable to speak for some moments. At last, encouraged by Christine, who murmured in his ear and squeezed his hand lovingly, he cleared his throat and said, his magnificent voice somewhat rough around the edges, “Thank you. I would be very happy to remain with the Populaire.”
With an unladylike squeal of delight Marie Durant led a round of enthusiastic applause which was brought to a halt by Marigny raising an impatient hand.
“Now that we have such formalities out of the way, I would like to announce that we wish to vary the tone of the season somewhat and to that end we will be presenting a new production of Die Fledermaus by Strauss. I believe that Mademoiselle Merriman has had some success in the role of Rosalinde on the London stage.” Theodora inclined her head, and the manager continued, “The roles will therefore be cast as follows: Rosalinde von Eisenstein: Mademoiselle Merriman; Gabriel von Eisenstein, her husband: Monsieur DuPre. Signor Rossi will play Alfred, the singing teacher who is also Rosalinde’s lover. Mademoiselle Daae will take on the role of Adele, Rosalinde’s maid. Messieurs Renard and Giordano will play Doctor Falk and Doctor Blind respectively. The role of Prince Orlofsky will be taken by Mademoiselle Durant.”
“Understudies will be selected by Messieurs Reyer and Claudin, and they will of course provide you all with a copy of the libretto,” said Fontaine. “As this piece does not contain a ballet we will be calling upon Monsieur Reyer to compose a new piece with which to open Act II, which Madame Giry will naturally choreograph.”
Reyer looked a little taken aback at being asked to write such an important piece at short notice. “If you say so, Monsieur,” he said, scratching his head and making his bowler hat jig up and down. “Perhaps I might prevail upon Monsieur Claudin to assist me?”
“A collaboration? Excellent!” Fontaine exclaimed before Erik could even open his mouth. He clapped his hands together. “That’s all settled then. I think we can leave you to your rehearsal, eh, Claude?”
Marigny shuffled through the papers he held, scrutinizing one or two closely before finally nodding. The managers departed, stopping only for Marigny to tell Erik that they would need him to return to the office at some point during the day to sign a contract. Once they were gone, the buzz of conversation descended upon the stage like a swarm of excited bees.
“A leading role! I can’t believe it!” Marie cried, astonished. For a moment the mezzo looked as though she might faint but thankfully recovered herself. Madame Giry was grateful; she knew that singers could be over-emotional but to have two of them swooning in the space of an hour would be rather too much.
Christine smiled. “You deserve it after all the time you’ve spent in the chorus.”
“Oh, but Orlofsky should have gone to you, Christine!” Marie said. “You look so well in male costume and you deserve it far more than me. I’ve always been quite happy to remain in the background.”
“Don’t be so silly,” Christine told her. “After singing Gilda I’m more than content with a smaller part. Besides, I’ll be understudying Rosalinde and that will be quite enough work. Especially,” she added glancing at Erik, “with such an exacting teacher.”
“I have never pushed you to any heights you were not capable of scaling, my dear,” he replied, recovering some of his poise now that he was not being observed by everyone in the room.
“They all say that,” said Theodora Merriman, arching an eyebrow. “Then they wonder why you’re a nervous wreck every time you step on stage.”
“Oh, Er – Monsieur Claudin is nothing like that!” Christine replied hurriedly, catching herself as she realised others were listening to the conversation. Antoinette wondered exactly when she and Erik intended to announce their engagement to the company at large; it would not stay hidden as long as a diamond ring adorned Christine’s finger. “He is most considerate.”
A mischievous smile quirked the new diva’s lips, and Madame Giry found herself wishing to know what had gone on in that dressing room in her absence. “I’m sure he is, sweetheart,” Theodora said with a wink, making Christine flush prettily.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have some order..!” Monsieur Reyer called from the pit, banging his baton on the music stand. “This is meant to be a rehearsal and there are one or two minor kinks we need to iron out before tonight’s performance!”
No one took any heed, too busy gossiping. The ballet rats were in a huddle, chattering away and occasionally looking over their shoulders to where Christine stood with Erik and Mademoiselle Merriman. Reyer, rolling his eyes in despair, shot a pleading glance towards Antoinette. As always, she did not need to say a word; all it took to achieve silence was the swift, precise thump of her cane on the boards. At the sound her dancers shuffled into formation like well-drilled soldiers. Even Marius put away his hip flask and stood to attention.
“Thank you,” Reyer said with a deep sigh of relief. “Now, if we could go over the opening of Act I, with just the Duke and Rigoletto. Messieurs Renard and DuPre..?”
Alphonse and Marius submitted to the musical director’s demands, taking their places while Reyer drilled the orchestra. Erik remained on the sidelines, divining as Madame Giry did that it was the musicians who really needed the rehearsal; the new first bassoon and third trombone were still finding their feet. Antoinette directed the ballerinas towards the wings, where they stood in a neat line; it did not take long for the whispering to begin again, however, and she fixed the perpetrators with a gimlet stare.
“Giselle! Hortense!” she snapped, and the two jumped guiltily. “If you find something of such importance that you cannot leave it for even a moment, perhaps you would care to share it with the rest of us.”
“It’s nothing, Madame Giry,” Hortense said. “We were - ”
“We were just wondering if Christine would let us see her ring,” Giselle interrupted breathlessly. “It’s so pretty, and I think she’s so lucky to have Monsieur Claudin as a fiancé – ow!” She broke off with a squeal as Hortense kicked her in the shins.
“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Theodora observed. “Just as well you were intending to come clean anyway.”
“We couldn’t hope to keep it to ourselves for long,” Christine told Erik, who sighed.
“Now everyone will think you get your roles because of nepotism,” he muttered.
“That’s hardly likely, unless there’s something you’re not telling us and Monsieur Fontaine is actually the one who proposed,” said Theodora, amused.
Christine giggled, and squeezed Erik’s hand. “No more secrets, remember?” she asked. He nodded wearily, and she turned to Antoinette. “If you don’t mind, Madame..?”
Madame Giry waved a hand in assent and Christine approached the ballet rats, who fell into a chorus of ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s over her engagement ring. “She’s right,” she said quietly to Erik. “There was no way to keep it between yourselves unless you wanted her to wear the ring around her neck like she did with the vicomte’s.”
“Nothing was further from my mind,” he replied sharply. “We have nothing to hide.”
“And of course it tells the world that she is yours.” He glared at her, and she just smirked, knowing full well how much he must be enjoying the feeling that Christine was finally his and his alone. There was a possessive streak in him that had obviously grown from having to cling to those things he held dear lest they were wrenched away; after so many years in selfish solitude it would take a very long time to cure him of such a trait.
“Sorry to break up this little party,” Theodora Merriman said, startling them both. Neither had even noticed her absence, but now she stood before them having evidently crossed the stage and fetched Signor Rossi from where he had been lurking in the wings, watching proceedings with a bored eye. He was a head shorter than Erik but still towered over her, his brooding presence giving the impression that a hawk had decided to keep company with a wren. “I wanted to introduce you both to Antonio. He and I have sung together several times, in Covent Garden and at La Scala. You really should ask him for a sample of his Corrado sometime.” She kissed her fingers. “Sublime!”
“Incantato, Signora,” Rossi murmured as he bent over Antoinette’s hand. He nodded to Erik, the gesture no more than a jerk of the head. “Signor.”
“Is this your first time on the Paris stage, Signor?” Madame Giry enquired. There was something familiar about his dark eyes; she felt sure she had seen him somewhere before. She glanced at Erik and saw that he was frowning, as though he were thinking the same thing.
Rossi shook his head. “No, I have spent the majority of my career in Italy. In recent years I spent five seasons in London.”
“You speak very good French, if I may say so,” Erik remarked. “Unusual for a man who has not lived in France.”
The tenor dismissed the comment with a wave. “I have an excellent ear for languages. It is helpful in this profession; I have sung many French operas.”
“What made you choose to join us here at the Populaire?” asked Antoinette, curious.
“I desired a change. I also wished to see for myself whether everything I had been told about the Paris Opera was true.”
Madame Giry exchanged a glance with Erik. “You have heard stories about us?”
“But of course, Signora. My half sister was Prima Donna here for many years,” Rossi replied. He paused before adding, “You must surely have worked with her: she is the celebrated Carlotta Giudicelli.”
