by Aria Norton
“With all due respect, sir, that is precisely what I am saying.”
The man gave a short bark of laughter, fiddling with his moustache as he sat back in his chair.
"I don't think that you understand what you are saying, Monsieur Baudelaire. Taking this temporary position will showcase your talent and bring attention to the conservatoire. This might even bring in donors willing to gift the school with much-needed funds. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Nathaniel understood perfectly. There was simply no way that he could say no to this offer or his employer might take action. Losing my job is not on the cards.
"Yes, sir. I understand, and I agree to take on this position."
“Good on you, my good fellow!” the man said brusquely, standing up.
Nathaniel stood up as well, taking his employer's outstretched hand. Monsieur Debussy squeezed Nathaniel's hand a little more than was necessary, likely in a warning.
“This will be good for you and for us. I hear that many powerful and influential people will be attending the opera. I will have the opera house announce our conservatoire at least once to put our name out there. Who knows what will happen?”
The man's excitement was palpable. It's all well and good for me, but I doubt it will bring much of a change in my life. It looked like Monsieur Debussy was keen on taking all the credit for Nathaniel's performance.
“How long do I have to practice the music?”
“One week.”
Nathaniel didn't think he had heard right. “One week?”
“That's right. I am sure you can learn the music by then, yes? Your future and that of the conservatoire depend on it.”
What the man truly meant was if Nathaniel did anything to bring embarrassment upon them, there would be consequences. I suppose I can do this.
“Well, I am always up for a challenge, sir.”
“That's what I like to hear. Now, you may leave my office. Have a good day, Monsieur Baudelaire.”
“Yes, thank you, sir.”
Nathaniel left the office quickly, worried that the man might give him extra work to do. With the day officially ended, at least he could go home and prepare himself for the week ahead. On second thought, the best woman to talk to would be his mother. After all, she had played the leading female role in this very opera and had her life irreversibly changed by the events that followed it.
Gathering up his bag from his classroom, Nathaniel left the school a troubled man.
Seated in his mother's parlour, Nathaniel thought of the best way to bring up his news. He didn't know how his mother would react to it, but Claudette was a sensible woman, so perhaps straightforward was best.
Nathaniel took a quick sip of his tea, clearing his throat several times.
“Oh, for heaven's sake, mon fils, just say what you want to say!" his mother cried. "I have watched you over-think whatever is going on in your head for the past hour."
Had he been so obvious? Evidently so. Nathaniel looked at his mother draped on her chaise longue, her voluminous skirts artfully arranged around her. She appeared relaxed and calm, but he could see the hint of worry in her eyes.
“You're right, I do have something to tell you, but I don't know how you'll take the news.”
“We'll know once you tell me.”
“Fair enough,” he said, putting his teacup down. “Well, I have been given an opportunity to play the violin for an orchestra in town for a few days.”
“Indeed? How lovely. Rupert told me about the performance to be held at the opera house, but I don't think he told me which performance it was.”
Nathaniel believed that his stepfather had purposefully withheld that information. The man was aware of what had transpired when his mother had played the prima donna as he had been an ardent fan of Nathaniel's mother for years.
“It's Giulio Cesare.”
His mother paused, frowning. “Giulio Cesare? Goodness! I haven't seen that opera in years.”
That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. I thought I'd see more emotion. Perhaps a few tears, a bit of anger- something! However, his mother remained calm and not concerned.
“Does it not bother you that I'll be a part of it?”
“Non. Pourquoi?”
“Do I have to spell it out?”
“Mon fils, simply tell me what is bothering you so much. Is it because of your father?”
“That man is not my father,” Nathaniel answered darkly.
“Why is this bothering you? It happened over twenty-three years ago, dear. I am no longer concerned about it, neither should you be. I am actually grateful to James because he gave me a son to love.”
Grateful? Was his mother touched in her upperworks? “How can you think so kindly about that man? He ruined your life!”
His mother shrugged her shoulders. “You say ruin, I say blessed. I got you in the process, and that I can never regret. Besides, I am married to a man who adores me, and I have everything I could ever want. Why would I choose to dwell on the past? Play in that opera with my blessings, son. I have nothing but good memories of it.”
That was easy for her to say. Nathaniel, however, could not simply let go of the past. Because of that man's treachery and selfishness, Nathaniel was born illegitimate. Growing up, children used to taunt him, making him feel unworthy and disgusted with himself. This had later fuelled a hatred for his father, and all the people of his class. Nathaniel couldn't stand aristocrats and avoided them like the plague.
“I will play in this opera because I have no other choice, but do not expect me to enjoy it.”
His mother chuckled. “You are so stubborn, mon fils. You are like your grandfather in so many ways.”
“Not even he would have been happy about me performing in this opera. He loathed the Viscount as much as I do.”
His mother sighed. “Papa was a difficult man, and he went to his grave, hating James. At least he did not reject me when I returned home an unmarried mother."
“Grandfather was a great man, and he was only right to hate that poor excuse of a man,” Nathaniel fumed. “Can we change the topic? I don't want to talk about that man.”
“Bien sûr, mon fils. I do feel that I should warn you about this particular opera performance.”
Nathaniel didn't like the sound of that. “Warn me about what?”
“You will meet the love of your life.”
Nathaniel stared at his mother for several seconds before he burst out laughing. His mother looked amused but serious.
“This is nothing to laugh about, Nathaniel. I am serious.”
“Oh, Maman, you are simply too much. That sounds like superstitious beliefs to me.”
His mother shook her head. “Do not disregard my warning so easily, Nathaniel.”
“Maman, you know that I have every intention of marrying Beatrix one day.”
Pulling her face, his mother sat up. “Beatrix? That woman is not the right one for you, Nathaniel. She does not love you.”
“Neither do I love her,” Nathaniel assured her. “I am marrying her because she is sensible, attractive, and she has some musical talent. I have no intention of marrying for love.”
His mother appeared thoughtful, returning to her resting position. “I hear what you are saying, mon fils, but I cannot shake off what I feel. You will meet the love of your life, and I will be gracious enough not to say that I told you so.”
Nathaniel knew there was no point in arguing with his mother. Once she got an idea into her head, she stood her ground on it. She'll see soon enough that she's wrong and I'm right. He was sure of it.
Chapter 3
Helena wondered if she had overdressed for the opera, but when she saw Sophie's ridiculous attire, she was put at ease. Helena's relatively tame ruby-red dress sported three large gold buttons down the bust, a layer of white lace along the top of the bodice for modesty's sake, and heavy bead-work along the bottom of the dress and half sleeves.
Her coat – ruby-red as w
ell – had white fur on its borders and red lace around the waist and shoulders. The simplest-looking part of her ensemble was her plain red shoes with a ribbon running a quarter of the way up her legs. Rose had arranged Helena's hair around a gold wreathe-like band on her head, curling several strands in the front to form ringlets that reminded Helena of a pig's tail.
Sophie, on the other hand, looked like a peacock who didn't quite know what colour it wanted to be. Blue, green, yellow, black and white- these colours were an eyesore and left the observer dizzy.
“Oh, isn't this wonderful?” Sophie remarked. “This is surely the fullest the opera house has ever been! I think everyone who is anyone is here tonight, and they'll be able to see us from the box.”
Arriving at said box, Sophie pushed the curtain aside, taking Helena's hand as she hurried inside.
"Goodness, Sophie! We have an hour yet before the performance is due to start. Why are you rushing about?"
“To see the people, of course,” her friend stated as though it was the most natural and obvious thing in the world. “I simply must see the gowns of the other women. My dressmaker has painstakingly made this dress to ensure that no one else could possibly look the same.”
Helena wanted to tell her friend that not only would no one have her dress, but no one else with sense would dare wear it. Sophie had already attracted several amused onlookers who would probably mock the dress before long. I do not know how she ever decided that this horrendous creation is acceptable. Helena would have made her change, but since Sophie had arrived at her house to travel to the opera together, Helena decided to keep her opinions to herself. She would have given the woman a gown of her own, but Sophie was rather thin and tall while Helena was at least a size bigger and several inches shorter.
“Have we come to parade ourselves before the people, or have we come to enjoy the performance?” Helena asked.
“Oh, Helena! You wouldn't understand. Everyone notices you because you're Lord Pembroke's daughter and beautiful. Some of us have to work a little harder.” She rolled her eyes.
Sophie's father was part of the landed peerage, and a respectable man in his own right, but Sophie wanted more. The young woman had her heart set on marrying a titled man who would give her all the respect and attention she so desperately wanted.
"If you would just be yourself, you would see that people will naturally flock to you. I think it more to do with one's attitude than connections or appearance."
Sophie snorted. “You clearly don't know much, but I don't blame you. You've been coddled by your parents and servants. Now, do let me look to my heart's content.”
Sophie leaned over the edge of the box, her head turning this way and that as she took in all the attendees. Helena decided to take her seat but sat on the edge in case her friend leaned a little too far. Sophie was known to put her safety last just to be noticed by others.
Taking a look around, Helena was pleased to see that she had a perfect view of where the orchestra would play and a clear view of the stage. There was nothing worse than watching a performance from an uncomfortable angle. Mr Torrey must have paid a pretty cent for this box. Sophie's father never spared any expense when it came to keeping his daughter happy.
Helena glanced behind her when their curtain was pushed aside, and a familiar face appeared.
"Candace!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you were coming."
Candace, pretty in pale blue and white, grinned. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Did you think I would have let you and Sophie have all the fun? Besides, I heard that there would be many important people here, and hoards of eligible suitors. I may as well advertise myself now.”
Helena raised her eyebrows. That was an odd thing for the woman to say. Advertise herself? That sounded more like something Sophie would say.
“Candace, are you feeling well?”
“Of course,” her friend said a little too brightly. “Why wouldn't I?”
Helena felt that there was definitely something wrong, but she didn't want to press her friend in such a public place.
“Very well. You look lovely in that blue. It goes beautifully with your complexion.”
Candace coloured slightly. “Thank you. You're stunning as usual, but what on earth is Sophie wearing?”
“Do not mention anything about it,” Helena whispered in warning. “She is feeling confident, and any wrong word will bring her entire mood down. You know how Sophie can be when she's angry and tearful.”
Candace grimaced. “You're perfectly right. I do not wish to go through an entire night of her theatrics. This performance will be all I can possibly take.”
Candace wasn't one for the theatre, but something had led her to come today. Whatever it was, it would have to wait until Helena could get her alone and question her privately.
“Come, take a seat. It's only Sophie and I in this box. Sophie,” Helena called a little more loudly. “Look who came to join us.”
Sophie turned around, her eyes widening when she saw Candace. “That must be a phantom because I know that Candace would not willingly come to the opera.”
Candace blushed. “Well, a woman is allowed to change her mind, isn't she? Besides, I wanted a little entertainment this evening, that is all. Unless you did not wish for me to come?”
The plump woman was already taking on the look of a rejected puppy. Helena was having none of this tonight.
“We're glad you came,” Helena assured. “Sophie is merely surprised. Isn't that so, Sophie?”
Helena shot her friend a warning glance. This was not the time or the place to have a silly argument.
Sophie nodded. “Yes, of course! I am surprised, but happy that you came. Why don't we all take a seat? We have a good bit of time left before the performance.”
They all did as she bid, with Helena in the middle and her friends flanking her- it was safest that way.
As the women chattered away, several acquaintances came past their box, but fortunately, none of them said a word about Sophie's monstrosity of a dress. If only we can maintain this until the end of the night. Helena held no doubts that her friend would end up in the gossip rags tomorrow, but perhaps any mention was good to Sophie. All she wants is to be known by all, even if that means gaining notoriety.
“Will you all be attending the London Season?” asked Susan, a slightly bucktoothed girl.
Sophie was the first to answer. “Most definitely! I would have gone last Season if Father hadn't insisted I needed another year to mature. Can you imagine? Me, immature? I think he simply wanted to keep me at home for as long as possible.”
From the corner of her eyes, Helena observed Candace's expression change from mild interest to despair. Whatever is wrong must have something to do with home. Though they drove her up the wall, Helena loved her friends and hated to see them morose.
“Has anyone ever watched Giulio Cesare?” she asked, changing the topic. “I particularly love the age-old romance between Cleopatra and Julius Caesar, but will this performance do it any justice?”
No one in their group had ever watched this particular performance. Not even Sophie could boast because she would fall short if her opinion was not proven by the end of the performance.