CHAPTER 8

January 1865

Truimph was his!

Astounding progress had been made with Annabel.

Quade couldn't believe how quickly she had improved and how much stronger she had become.

He was right about her potential, he knew it all along!

Annabel was ready for the next step in her journey to absolute perfection.

He had discovered where she was in terms of her technique and found the music that created their connection.

When this moment happened, Quade couldn't comprehend the emotion he felt.

For the 31 years he had been alive, he had never had the opportunity to sing like he did the past few weeks with Annabel.

Even with Annabel being unaware, he still experienced the connection between them and the love they both had for music. It was extraordinary!

Quade looked at the wooden clock against the wall and saw that it was already 12 o' clock. It was finally time at last!

Quade fastened his cloak and with a trained hand secured his mask over his face with his hat following.

It felt like eternity since he had been with Annabel.

He silently made his way through the known corridor towards Annabel's room.

The heavy silence of the empty corridor overwhelmed his entire being.

He stopped firmly in front of the Rococo inspired carved wooden door and placed his hand onto the doorknob. Having observed the amount of time Annabel took to fall asleep Quade waited patiently. Each time he stood before this door his heartbeat raced. This woman gave him great excitement.

Without wasting anymore time, he slowly turned the doorknob. He crept inside closing the door behind him.

As he turned around to face Annabel's sleeping figure he stopped abruptly.

She was not there.

Words can't describe the disappointment and confusion Quade felt at that present moment. Where on earth could she be? It was already midnight, she couldn't possibly still be with the Corps de Ballet, could she?

Without thinking another thought Quade impulsively left the room and moved towards the Ballet practice room.

With each step Quade became more concerned. A horrifying thought entered his mind. She left the opera house.

It was absurd! It couldn't possibly be true, he refused to believe this nonsense.

He reached the silent practice room and as he expected, no living soul was present.

The brutal truth has revealed itself.

Quade has lost his muse.

The despair crept its way up into his mind. What was left for him to do now? Such progress had been made with Annabel. She was becoming astounding he could barely believe it.

The next step he could think of was to speak with Jules the following morning. Jules might have some more information that somehow have slipped his mind. He might know about Annabel's whereabouts.

If she for some odd reason decided to resign from the Opera Populair he would have to find a way to encourage her to return. Quade had to make it happen. The opera house needed her. He needed her.

*****************

Her father used to take her to the sea. Days of taking long walks on the soft sand and hearing father playing and singing. The violin and the sound of the sea would create new melodies which would inspire Annabel more than ever. Being there created a different atmosphere, much more different than back at home.

It would be the setting where Annabel and her father was the most fulfilled. It was where her father was the most content and most at peace. It was, where not even the death of her mother could fuel the all too familiar despair.

One particular day Annabel and her father were taking their routine walk early that morning.

It was a cold morning and Annabel was wearing her mother's wool plum red scarf. The great ocean wind danced its way through sixteen year old Annabel's long curls. Her father was telling her one of his stories that his father used to tell him. Stories about ancient sea captains and mermaids with enchanting voices capable of entrancement. She listened wholeheartedly, with narrowed attention, not missing a word. The passing of a woman and her son couldn't even steal her attention. That was so until the powerful wind took hold of her scarf and blew it into the thundering waters. With a panic Annabel ran towards the waters with a piercing cry.

With in seconds a vague figure entered her vision and ran towards the water. A boy with honeycomb hair swam through the waters and before Annabel could do anything else he retrieved her scarf. The wet boy emerged from the waters and slowly walked towards her.

"I believe this belongs to you, mademoiselle." The young man's voice was sweet and gentle.

Silenced by what just occurred Annabel just smiled shyly. The boy smiled back. He possessed such kind eyes, it took her breath away.

"Yes, oh thank you messieur. It belonged to my mother. The only thing I have left of her."

From that moment on Annabel was certain this young man was destined to be in her life. Though that was what she thought until both of them went their separate ways when reaching 18 years of age.

Never did Annabel expect to see him again.

It all happened one afternoon.

It was the stage rehearsal and the Corps de Ballet was practicing the steps to Giulio Cesare. As Mme Murie demanded the girls to repeat the routine, two gentlemen appeared on stage.

Everyone stopped and brought their attention to the gentlemen. Annabel immediately noticed the younger man's honeycomb colored hair.

The opera populair's conductor enthusiastically made his way up on the stage to greet the two men.

"Conte Philippe and Viscount Roger de Changy, what unexpected honor to have you present in the opera populair! What brings you two fine gentlemen here?"

"Evening sir, we are actually on the search for our mystery manager of the opera populair. We have important matters to discuss with him regarding finances." Conte Philippe de Changy, the older of the two, explained.

"Of course messier! Let me escort you to his office. I can't guarantee you'll be able to encounter the man himself but his apprenti would be there to assist you." The conductor said.

"Fair enough sir, we'll discuss it with him then." The Viscount added.

The three men left the stage. Annabel made an attempt to try and catch the Viscount's eye but failed to do so. He didn't acknowledge her presence.

Sudden disappointment filled her chest. He probably have forgotten about her.

Little Meg Giry noticed Annabel's behavior and with her never ending curiosity whispered in her ear.

"You look like you know those two gentlemen. Have you encountered them before?"

Embarrassed by her bashful reaction to the Viscount she shook her head slightly. "I have encountered the Viscount before, but that was very long ago. We were very young. But he won't remember me."

Meg's eyes suddenly lid up with excitement. "You mean you were childhood sweet hearts? Annabel do you have any idea how rich this man is? You must take the chance! Even if he can't remember you, you're beautiful. He won't be able to resist you!" She giggled while embracing Annabel.

She didn't react to Meg's statement nor did she give it any further thought.

The chances that he would give her any serious thought was impossible.

It's been years since she last spoke to him.

The rich Viscount who she has seen today might not even be the kind young boy she had met years ago back at the sea.

His wealth might have transformed him into a cruel unrecognizable human being.

She didn't know.

But what happened at midnight was an experience that Annabel would never forget.

It was once more a night of endless practicing. When Mme Murie was satisfied at last, the Corps de Ballet was free to go. No one noticed the figure who had been watching them.

As Annabel left the practice room a strong hand pulled her backwards. "Annabel Fiori, where is your red scarf?"

Before her stood the young man with the honeycomb hair and the kind blue eyes. 

"Messieur?" 

"Why Annabel don 't tell me you have forgotten! My I would forever be shattered." A supposedly disappointed Roger tried to contain the smile that revealed his true state of being. 

It was indeed him.

"How could I have forgotten? You went into the sea to fetch my scarf, oh Roger it is you!" Roger presented a rose and a surprised Annabel took hold of it gently. 

"When Mme Murie mentioned your name I knew I had to find you at once. Oh Annabel I was certain I would never see you again. Tell me where can we go! I have so many news to share with you." He could hardly contain his excitement. 

Without considering any further thought and time Annabel replied softly. 

"Outside. The opera populair's roof. We can go there, it has the most wonderful view on Paris." 

The two past childhood sweethearts engaged in a journey with endless conversation. The beautiful memories of the past made them both return back to the sea and the continuous  passing of time couldn't even destroy the joy they both experienced.