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Silver -chp 16-

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-Chapter 16-

In June of 1885, the citizens of Paris cheered for the rising new star of the grand Opera House.  At twenty-five years old, the fresh young soprano named Rosette Elie provided a striking contrast against the diva Madame Margot Antonine.  The people were enchanted by the new heroine.  Her February debut as the Priestess Leila in Bizette's Pearl Fishers had thrust her into the lime light and the audience could not get enough of her.  They cheered and called to hear more of the pure, lovely voice.
The sudden emergence of yet another delightful, but otherwise unknown soprano had a strangely Christine Daae type feel to it.  However, the populace dismissed whatever connection the two women might have to each other.       
Rosette Elie's face became the subject of flyers, pamphlets, and posters.  She was dressed in dazzling costumes and positioned in postures of grief, joy, and serenity.  Her childish face, with its kind, smiling mouth, and deep, seeking blue eyes were ever framed with dark curls and wreaths of flowers.  She was quickly becoming the main attraction of the Paris Opera House.  Though she had only appeared in three operas in four months, and was the lead in only one of those performances, the public had already declared her debut as the start of a glorious career.  
Mail addressed to the young woman flooded the Opera House.  Her dressing room was overflowing with flowers.  Several admirers tried to sneek backstage after performances, but the "shy young diva," as the papers called her, always managed to elude them.  Very few photos of her ever made it into the papers, and indeed, the news letters rarely did anything but recirculate the sketches of her that were already in the opera programs or pamphlets.  When offstage, Rosette was out of the spot light entirely.  She kept to herself, protecting herself and her secrets.  Her friends likewise protected her.  
Backstage, Adele and Andrea triumphantly pointed out Rosette's name and praises printed in the papers.  In response, she merely blushed and pushed the papers away.  De Leon, the maestro, Margot, Adele, Andrea, and others all congratulated Rosette, and she in turn thanked them graciously and dismissed the subject.  
In the beginning, the sudden attention thrust upon her unnerved her somewhat.  She feared the attention for Andrea's sake.  Attention on him had never been anything but harmful for him.  He had never been comfortable with people noticing him or his sister, and the sudden focus on Rosette may have proved unsettling for him.  However, much to Rosette's surprise, Andrea was pleased with her success.  No one had yet made a connection between him and his famous sister, and there was thus no reason for him to worry for his safety or that of his sister's.  The fact that Andrea seemed easy with Rosette's fame made it easier for Rosette to accept it herself.    
All the same, Rosette jealously guarded her secrets.  It was better that way.  It was safer that way.  True, things were better than ever, better than she had ever dreamed they could be.  Andrea's apprentiship with Cyril was going splendidly, and Rosette was beginning her own successful career.  Still, she would let her guard down.
At the same time, however, that did not mean she could not have a little fun.
That year, the Paris Opera House hosted a grand masquerade ball to welcome summer.  The celebration of the seasons was suddenly the fashionable thing to do.  The grand building was preparing for the event weeks in advance, and on the day of, the lobby, passageways, corridors, and side rooms were sparkling.  Every crystal on the great chandeliers had been polished, the stairs waxed, and the marble and bronze statues cleaned, buffed, and oiled.  Dazzling decorations and fabulous foppery covered the splendid venue.  The Opera House glowed inside and out as its guests were welcomed in on the evening of June 20th, 1885.
Clowns and harlequins, kings and queens, birds and beasts flooded inside the great entrance of the Opera House.  The place was completely packed with colorful, glittering, feathered and furred Parisians.  Laughter, music, chatter, and the never-ending clink, chink, clink of champagne glasses floated and bounced through the air.  
In the gleeful chaos, no one noticed one solitary figure who seemed more comfortable standing in the shadows than mingling with the people.  He was tall, and dressed in a fine, tailored, navy suite, with a white silk shirt and glistening black and cobalt cravat.  The cuffs of the coat were clasped with square ebony cuff links.  The navy, full-face mask he wore was decorated with shining black stripes around the eyes, giving the mask an Egyptian appearance.  His wavy, dark brown hair was pulled back into a braid at the nape of his neck, and fastened with a simple black chord.  
Andrea stood away from the crowd, close to one of the massive, scarlet velvet curtains that served as a decorative door to one of the hidden corridors.  Rosette had told him that she and the ballerinas would come to the party through that door.  Though Rosette was on her way to stardom, she could not leave the younger girls who had become her friends, and thus stayed with them as much as she could.  She had acted as a sort of chaperone for them for the last year, and was having some difficulty pulling herself away from that post.
Andrea tapped his foot, impatient for Rosette and Adele to arrive.  He felt foolish having to wait on them.  Worse still, he felt downright silly in the suite the two women had selected for him.  At the same time, however, he was pleasantly aware of the fact that he no longer stood out in the crowd.  Everyone here wore his or her masks for pleasure, while he wore his for necessity.  No one could tell the difference, though.
At last, the curtain rustled, and a wash of giggling, tittering ballerinas came spilling out of the corridors.   They all wore dresses of flimsy, filmy, pastel colored gossamer that hugged their shoulders and chests but flowed and twirled around their waists.  Only two figures in the whole throng stood out.
The first one was Adele.  She was dressed in a modest, cream colored dress.  A few pearls and sequins had been sewn into the silk bodice, and they caught the light brilliantly each time she moved.  Her simple mask was of the same color, with one chestnut plume rising from the center.  It covered her eyes, but left the rest of her pleasant face exposed.  Her blond hair, which was usually tied in a braid, was fashioned into a beautifully weaved bun at the base of her neck.  A few silky strands curled around her cheeks and eyes.  Upon seeing Andrea, Adele separated herself from the other girls and darted towards him.
The second figure to stick out among the ballerinas was Rosette.  While the other girls wore soft, creamy, pastel colors, Rosette's dress was violet and black.  Her shoulders were exposed, and the black and violet striped bodice was cut into a sweetheart neckline.  The deep purple skirt of the dress pooled from her hips freely, with plenty of fabric flowing behind her to make a small train.  The center of the dress was striped in the same fashion as the bodice, and the outer layer of silk was deep purple.  Small, black roses were fashioned at the waistline as well as pinned to the small, gauzy purple puffed sleeves.  Her short, curling black hair had been pulled back and had glittering black roses pinned into it.  A few strands of hair curled around her face in the same fashion as Adele's.  In one black silk-gloved hand, Rosette held the handle of her ebony, sequined eye mask, with all of its black feathers bobbing with each step she took.  Her other hand toyed with the black beaded chocker at her neck.  
Among the ballerinas, Rosette was the only woman.  She was a rose among simpler flowers.  
When she saw Adele dart away from the group, Rosette followed suite.  Soon, she was standing beside her brother, who was still in awe of Adele.  Rosette suppressed the urge to giggle.  Over the last few months, she had seen Adele and Andrea's relationship bloom and grow in a shy but sweet mutual affection.  
"Ask her to dance," she muttered into her brother's ear as she heard the musicians start up another waltz.  Andrea, confused as any other man of eighteen, weakly stammered a consent as he lead Adele towards the other dancers.  When they were out of earshot, Rosette at last let the laugh escape her.  
"That was a sound I thought I might never hear again," a young man spoke up behind her.  "I have missed that laughter."
Rosette did not turn to look at who it was who addressed her.  She inhaled once as she closed her eyes.  A knot began to form in her stomach.  At last, she tore her gaze away from the flow of dancers that spun before her and looked into the eyes of Casper Fredrickson.  He was as handsome as ever, though his face seemed somewhat thinner.  The area beneath his eyes was darker, but his eyes were still soft and sad.  The childlike shyness that they always had, however, was gone.  In its place was an emptiness that made the hair on the back of Rosette's neck stand up.  
"Bonjour.  How have you been, Monsieur Fredrickson?" she asked, her eyes meeting his.  Formality, and the massive crowd around them, was her only protection.
"Not well.  There has been great sadness in my home."  The Scandinavian accent gave his French a peculiar tinge.
"So I have heard.  I am sorry for the loss of your cousin," Rosette answered softly.  She silently prayed that God would forgive her lie.  Casper smiled, but there was not mirth in the expression.
"I have missed you.  It has been a long time, and you have been busy.  Congratulations on your recent success."  He reached one hand for her, which she quickly drew away.
"Monsieur, forgive me, but I do not recall us being on such familiar terms last we saw each other," she said, taking a step back.  Perhaps if she feigned indignation he would leave and she could enjoy the rest of the evening.  Already people were looking at them, some to see what they thought was a lovers' quarrel, others to see the young star.  
Rosette turned her back on Casper and tried to get away from him, forcing her way through the crowd.  However, with so many people moving and jostling against her, she hardly placed any distance between the man and herself.  He was behind her, matching each of her steps.  She whirled on him and raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist.  A new song began, and he pulled her to him.  
"Dance with me, Rosette," he said quietly.  Before she realized it, he had spun her onto the dance floor.  He held her close to him, his arm pressing against her waist, and his hand nearly crushing her own.
"Casper, you're hurting me," Rosette whispered, eyes searching past him for any sign of her brother or a friend.  "Let me go… please.  What do you want?"  Her voice remained firm, but her heart hammered in her chest.
"Answers," he said quietly.  Rosette's eyes darted towards his.  Casper's eyes were dark and hollow, no longer bright and shy as they had once been.  They were not the eyes of the fair young man Rosette had once been fond of.  Instead, they were the eyes of a man who had been hurt, wronged, and was now bitter  What had happened to him?  There was more to this than the death of Aksel.  Did he know of the connection between Rosette and Aksel?  The color drained from Rosette's face.  
Suddenly, Casper was no longer moving her along with the music.  Instead, they stood near the center of the floor, surrounded by swirling, laughing couples who tripped around them.  His lips pressed to hers in a soft, seeking way, but there was no affection in the gesture.  Rosette's eyes widened and she pushed against him.  None of this made sense to her!  
Feeling her press against him, Casper pulled away from her.  He stared at her, face blank.  He pressed his lips lightly to her forehead, then once more pulled her with him in rhythm to the music.
"Casper, stop!  Let go of me!  What are you doing?" Rosette hissed as she pressed against him.  So many colorful people passed them and seemed not to notice her distress.  
Just then, Rosette saw an arm slip between her and Casper.  The arm pulled her away from the man, and she found herself in the arms of yet another partner.  He was taller than Casper, with long, jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.  The mask he wore covered his entire face, much like Andrea's, but was entirely black.  The tailored suite he wore was also black, and a shimmering, red silk cravat encased his neck.  He smelled of exotic spices and far away places.  He held her lightly, but pulled her quickly away from Casper, all the while keeping rhythm and step with the music.  When Rosette looked behind her, she could not find Casper anywhere in the crowd.  She heaved a sigh of relief.
"Monsieur, thank you," she breathed.  "You have just saved me from a great distress.  I fear I shall not be able to relax while that man is here."
Her companion made no reply.  Instead, he merely continued to pull and spin her as they weaved through the crowd.  Rosette thus resigned herself to enjoy a pleasant dance with a silent partner.  Yet try as she might, she was unable to fully enjoy the festivities.  She continually glanced over her shoulder, eyes looking for any trace of Casper.  Occasionally, she would see his face, and their eyes would meet.  Her heart would begin to race, but her dance partner would turn her and pull her away.  The crowd would swallow the two once more, and Casper would be out of view.
"Do not worry.  He shall not reach you again this evening," Rosette's partner finally spoke up.  Rosette's heart stopped for a moment.  Her eyes darted up to his masked face.  Golden eyes stared down at her.
"You…." She whispered.
She momentarily thought of yanking herself away from him.  However, if she left him, Casper would be out there looking for her and she would have no escape or excuse.   She had to decide who she was more afraid of: Casper or the Ghost?
Mwahahahahaha! I just have to leave you hanging for now. Oh gosh, this chapter was sooooo much fun to write! I've missed writing this. Please forgive the delay. I've been out of town, but I've been chomping at the bit to get this started. Oh, I think things will become so much more interesting for Rosette and Erik now. I hope all of you enjoy!

Phantom of the Opera - Leroux
Silver - Mine
© 2011 - 2024 Cesteel
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Erik-of-Music's avatar
:nuu: AHHHHHHHH!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!!!! PLEASE WRITE ANOTHER CHAPTER SOON!!! I CANNOT wait to see what happens!!!!!