CHAPTER RATING: PG
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, yeah, she's a blatant Mary-Sue. Winifred's story was born from my rationalizations of my fantasies. But this is the first character I've ever created that is without a doubt me. She doesn't look like me, but her personality's defiantly me. Or parts of me, anyway. She's spaced out, she's got more conscience than what naturally occurs in a girl her age, and she constantly second guesses herself. It's wonderful. Also, like me, she's planning on becoming a classical singer, so that's not just a convenient plot device, it's actually me pouring myself into the story. Except for that first paragraph. That's a bunch of crap. I never had a fantasy like that. I'm too realistic.
She stood on a stage, looking over her vast audience. As she sang one, long, swelling note, she felt the theatre breath in as one body. The people were just one person when they heard her voice. All hate and human injustice came to an end in those short moments when her music rose and filled the air and listeners were united in the appreciation of true beauty. The audience was in the palm of her hand.
"Winifred," came a harsh voice.
"What?" Winifred replied, snapping out of her daydream.
Johnathan was drumming his fingers on the arm rest of the large cushioned parlor chair he sat in. "You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?" He was trying to sound annoyed, but Winifred could tell that he was just amused.
"Of course I was listening," she said defiantly, and then added timidly, "Love is patient?"
Johnathan laughed. "While that is something that we all need to keep in mind, especially me during our lessons, we're actually in the Old Testament at the moment."
"Oh." Winifred leaned forward and turned to Genesis.
"We're in Job," Johnathan corrected her.
Winifred sighed. "I do wish you wouldn't speak to me like that, Johnathan. Just because you're training to be a priest, it doesn't mean that you can talk down to me. You're only two years older than me, Little Johnny."
"I'm sorry," He replied genuinely. "But it's difficult not to treat you like a child when you're acting like one."
"A few daydreams do not make me a child," she argued, annoyed.
"Yes, but refusing to speak to your father about acting on them does."
Winifred was suddenly hot. "I do not refuse to speak to him about it. It's just that it is impossible. I made one mere mention of becoming an opera singer and he tells me that the only difference between an actress and a whore is that an actress performs for a larger crowd."
Johnathan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Winifred Deschanel, hold your tongue."
"Hold your own tongue, Johnathan. He can't get angry with you for allowing me to quote him."
"Yes, but such things should not come from a lady's mouth." Winifred could tell that he was struggling a little to keep a straight face.
"Yes, well," she replied moodily, "I am under the impression that nothing is meant to come from a lady's mouth."
"Ah, then you've cracked the code," Johnathan said with a sly smile.
Winifred stared at Johnathan darkly for a moment, but then laughed. "I think you need to trade in that vow of celibacy for a vow of silence." She then turned to her Bible, feeling that Johnathan would want to return to the lesson.
"Remember, my Aunt Carlotta is visiting along with my Uncle tomorrow," he said reassuringly.
Winifred perked up again. "Yes, I remember. I still cannot believe that you are related to Carlotta Guidicelli."
Johnathan winced. "Please stop saying that I'm related to her. She is only my aunt through marriage."
"I still can't believe it. She's my inspiration. I've been to hundreds of operas, but from the moment I first heard her sing, I knew that I had a chance at success."
The next day, Winifred dressed in her best everyday clothes. Her father did not know that the famous La Carlotta was staying at Johnathan's family's home. If he did, he would probably keep her from her lessons until Carlotta left.
Before Winifred even placed her foot on the front steps, she could hear a thick, angry Italian accent pouring out of the old house. She knocked, but no one came, so she knocked louder. Soon, the butler, Edward, opened the door.
"You come back here! I not finished with you!" screeched the voice in a rage, causing Winifred to flinch.
Edward rolled his eyes and said under his breath, "Miss Deschanel, on behalf of this household, I apologize for the crude intrusion on your lesson today."
He led her into the sitting room where Carlotta was sitting on a love seat with Jonathan's Uncle Dominic. Johnathan's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Bello, sat on the couch across from them and Johnathan was in a chair beside the couch.
"Winifred!" Mrs. Bello greeted her brightly. "So nice to see you!"
"There you are!" shouted Carlotta, standing to face Edward. She wore an almost-formal dress with bejeweled buttons and abundant lace. In her hands she held a tiny, white poodle wearing a rhinestone collar and decked in ribbons. She had fiery red hair and a broad face that would look dignified if it were not for the wild expression that it wore. "I ask you one simple thing and you not do it. I ask you to bring me food for my doggie and what do you get?"
Edward stared at her dully. "Dog food," he replied flatly.
"Dog food!" Carlotta cried, throwing a hand in the air, almost dropping the poodle. "My doggie does not eat dog food! Why you think I bring veal cutlet?"
Edward looked at the woman for a moment, then said calmly, "I am deeply sorry, Madame. It won't happen again."
Carlotta sneered. "It better not."
Mr. Bello stood suddenly and said, "Dominic, I want to show you that new horse I bought last month. She's a real beauty."
"Of course," Johnathan's uncle replied, standing.
"I'll help you," Mrs. Bello said quickly- almost frantically- and followed the two men out of the house. "So nice to see you again, Winifred," she said cheerily as she closed the back doors behind her.
Johnathan stood and guided Winifred over to where Carlotta sat. "Aunt Carlotta, this is Winifred Deschanel. She's a big fan of yours." Winifred could hear the amusement in his voice.
"Really?" Carlotta said and smiled smugly. "How do you do?"
"Well," Johnathan sighed, "I think I'll go check in on that horse as well. See you in a bit, ladies."
Winifred glared at Johnathan's back as he walked out the door.
"Come, come," Carlotta said as she glided over to the sofa. "Sit, innamorata." She put her dog on her lap as she reclined.
Winifred nervously sat at the opposite end of the couch.
"You are a fan?" Carlotta said, smiling.
"Y-yes," Winifred said. "I remember when I was younger and saw you in What May Cease to Be in the old theatre before it burned down. It was remarkable." Yes, the show was remarkable, but it could have done without Carlotta. Even at fourteenWinifredhad beenable to see that.
Carlotta smiled again and touched a hand to her hair delicately. "Thank you. We just get back from a production in England. Horrible country. Never go there. Before this show I was retired from singing for about two years."
"Why?"
"Oh." Carlotta looked away, suddenly solemn- the first sincerity Winifred had seen in her yet. "You remember the fire?" she asked as she pulled a handkerchief from her purse.
"Yes," Winifred replied quietly. She was referring to the infamous destruction of the Opera Populare.
Carlotta dabbed her eyes. "Mi amor- my greatest love- die in the fire. I couldn't bring myself to perform until I meet my tesoro Dominic. He give me the strength to pursue my art again. And so rich!"
Richard entered with a plate of veal cutlet.
"Ah, put it down there." Carlotta pointed at the floor and Richard obeyed. The poodle jumped from her lap and began to eat.
As Richard exited, Winifred decided it was time to get the information she had come for. "How did you become what you are today?" That was dumb. It sounded as though she was interviewing her for a feature in the newspaper.
Carlotta didn't seem to mind. "I love music since I was very young, and entertainment runs in my family. My father was a composer and my mother was a dancer. God-given talent and a good voice teacher is how I become successful."
Winifred bit her lip. A teacher. "What if...I wanted to take singing lessons. Who would be a good teacher for me to go to?"
Carlotta thought for a moment. "Oh, I know several nearby. DeJenior, Madame Correra, Limbardon...all of these are very expensive, though. You have to have the means."
"I don't have any money."
Carlotta looked at Winifred like she was insane. "No money? What you mean, no money?"
"I'm not poor or anything like that." Then Winifred dropped her voice to a whisper. "It's just...my father doesn't want me to sing. He won't be willing to pay. Even if I do begin lessons, I'll have to do it in secret."
Carlotta's expression turned mischievous. "Ah, I see."
"Do you...know of anyone who would, you know, teach me for free? Or at least for very little money?"
Carlotta snorted. "No one worth having," she said simply. But then she furrowed her brow. "Except...maybe the Phantom."
Winifred laughed. "The Phantom? Who is that?"
Carlotta's lips were now thin and her face was red. "The filthy bastardo that killed mio amore." She turned her head and spat at the air.
Winifred watched Carlotta for a moment, and then it hit her. "The Phantom of the Opera?"
"Sí, sí, the Phantom."
Winifred was dumbfounded. She'd heard of the stories of the Phantom of the Opera, but she never thought of them as true or false- only as rumors she had heard. Now that she was faced with the idea of actually going out to seek him, she was forced to decide on the validity of everything that she had heard.
Winifred cleared her throat. "So, you're telling me that the Phantom of the Opera is real?"
"Real? Of course he real! I saw him with my own two eyes!"
"And...he can teach me to sing?"
"Yes. I hear that he very good teacher. He thought Christine Daae, and now she almost as good as me." She touched her fingers to her hair.
"He taught Christine Daae to sing?" Winifred said in amazement. Miss Daae was known as one of the most talented sopranos in Europe. "How do I find him?"
"That a good question. I suppose the only person who would know that is Miss Daae. Or, her name de Chagny now, I guess. I can give you their address if you want it. I went to the premier party for Yolmora there last year."
"That would be wonderful."