a/n Typo—I wrote in the last chapter that Nadine was fourteen. She is actually fifteen at this point. You know I'm a moron.

CHAPTER 8—LES OPPOSÚX ATTIRENT

Madame Gaston's had slowly become a living hell for Emma. One month into school, it was exactly as she had predicted. She was far too shy to make many friends, and she only really talked to her suite-mate, Michelle. However, Michelle was a year older and spent a lot of time with the many beaus that fawned and fought over her. She was a successful student, thriving in all her classes, especially music.

The only thing keeping her from writing home was what she was currently waiting for. Anthony came in the main door of the dormitories wearing a small smile. Under the watchful eyes of her chaperon, a woman named Giselle who wore too much rouge on her face and dressed in a style appropriate of a woman thirty years her junior, Emma made her way down the staircase, smiling back at him.

"You look lovely," he said, raising her hand to his lips and pressing a small kiss there.

Emma felt her cheeks flush. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded, pulling her cloak a bit tighter around her. The October air was beginning to chill, and Emma was so used to the warm breezes of the Mediterranean that they felt positively frigid. Anthony held the door fer her and Giselle and she took his arm as they stepped down the steps.

The streets were fairly empty as they walked, speaking occasionally about school and classes they were taking. Emma felt a sharp pang of jealousy as Anthony spoke of his friends and their interesting lives. One had recently begun courting a young lady at his parents' request and was trying to find a way out of it. Apparently, she was quite lovely and without a brain in her head.

"Not like you," he mused. "You're as bright as you are lovely."

"That's all, though." Emma sighed heavily. "I feel it is as if no one will even talk to me."

Anthony pulled her arm a bit tighter around his, resting his hand on hers. "You just have to find your nitch," he said. "You'll start making friends."

"I hope you're correct."

They walked silently for several minutes, the only sound around them on the walk way their footsteps shadowed by Giselle's. Emma was glad, once again, that she had Anthony. At least he wanted to be her friend.

As they reached the dormitories again, Anthony spoke. Giselle walked past them to stand inside, but she peered through the glass, nosy and annoying as ever.

"Felix is going to the opera tomorrow night," he said softly. "He gets to use his father's box whenever he likes. He wanted to know if we would care to accompany him." He leaned a bit closer, a twinkle in his eyes. "We wouldn't have to take the old hag," he whispered conspiratorially.

Emma giggled. "What's the ?"

"Aida." He laughed again. "It was the only way Felix could lure this girl out. He's head over heals for her, but she's quite against the idea of seeing anyone. No idea why." He rolled his eyes. "In any case, she'd mentioned loving Verdi, and he's seizing his chance."

"Oh." Emma glanced at the glaring face of Giselle for a moment before she nodded. "I would love to go with you and... who are we going with?"

"Felix. He's my roommate." He raised Emma's hand to his lips again, kissing her fingers softly before releasing them. "Tomorrow, then. We'll meet you here. Six o'clock."

"Tomorrow."

The next day was Saturday, and it was slow for Emma. She finished all her schoolwork and set about picking out a gown for the evening. Michelle, who seldom spoke to her, looked up from a book she was reading as Emma brought out a black gown and lay it across the settee to let it air out, careful of the bead work.

"That's very pretty," she said, her eyes raking over the gown with a mixture of longing and appreciation. "Where are you going?"

"The opera," Emma said, glancing over at Michelle out of the corner of her eye. "Anthony is meeting me at six."

"You're not going alone, are you?"

"No." Emma arranged the train so that it was flat. "He's bringing his roommate and his roommate is bringing a girl, as well." She frowned down at the dress. Usually, this was something her mother helped her with.

"Is something wrong with your dress?" Michelle put down her book and came over to examine the expensive silk.

"No," Emma said slowly. Perhaps... "Here." She hurried into her room and came back a moment later with two pairs of gloves. "Do you think white or black?"

"You really want my opinion?" Michelle seemed honestly surprised when Emma nodded. "I think the black. The white would almost be too flashy, especially with all the beading. Who did this?"

"It's a Jacqueline Garnier."

Michelle's eyes widened as she recognized the dressmakers' name. "Wow! Those are so expensive. They're the most luxurious. You know, they say the people that design them are only people trained by Jacqueline herself."

"It's true. My mother's friend was very close friends with Jacqueline and helped run one of her shops in Paris."

"Who?"

"Meg Cartier?"

Michelle gasped. "Oh, she's divine! She's a fashion genius! And she's so elegant! My mother has met her at parties, of course, and she said that she is so beautiful and so daring!" Michelle spun excitedly, landing back in her chair. "And her husband... He's Papa's lawyer. He's so dreamy."

Emma couldn't help giggling at the thought of a girl her age swooning over Luc. Michelle didn't seem to notice. "What's Madame Cartier like in real life? Is she always so elegant?"

"Usually." Thrilled at the idea of conversing with a girl her own age, Emma moved to the fire and set some water to boil for tea. "She wears clothes from all over the world, too. Her mother travels a lot with her husband and they always bring Aunt Meg—"

"You call her 'Aunt Meg?'"

"She and my mother have been very close friends since they were children. Anyway, her mother and her husband travel a lot and she's always wearing some exotic thing around the house. She came to visit a few months before I left for school and I think she spent the entire time in Chinese silk, except for when we went out." Emma had been searching through her trunk for something while she talked, and victorious, she pulled out a little tin. She held it out for Michelle to see. "Here. It's tea from China."

"Really?" Michelle stared into the tin and took a small sniff. Her eyes closed. "It smells amazing."

"Would you care for some?"

Michelle nodded. She was silent as Emma prepared the tea, seeming to think about something. Finally, she spoke. "You're quite quiet for someone with such interesting family."

Emma sipped at her tea, considering this. Growing up, it was true she had been surrounded by an interesting crew. Her mother was a former opera diva turned investor who was on good terms with one of the best architects in Europe; her aunt and uncle were the crème-de-la-crème of Paris society; Marie and Nadir traveled the world when they weren't in Paris with Meg. Her own clothes were as ranged in variety as Meg's were. She owned several kimonos, a wrap dress from India, a Persian robe with matching slippers, and a variety of comfortable dresses from Greece that did not require corsets. She had a more interesting life than she'd ever realized. Strange, that she had needed to leave home to see this.

"I've never had many friends my own age," Emma admitted. "That's why Mama sent me to school. She wanted me to be socialized."

They finished their tea, and the conversation was light. They discussed school, clothes, and what Emma was planning to do with her hair that evening. Michelle offered the services of a friend of hers who could do anything with anyone's hair, and Emma had so much hair that she was glad for any help.

The girl whose help had been offered swooped in around five. She was tall and tan, with green eyes and dark curls that were pinned elegantly on the top of her head. She, like Emma, wore a ball gown. Hers, however, made even Emma's dress pale in comparison. It was a midnight blue, off the shoulders, and hugged her every curve dangerously. Silver accents in the bodice drew attention to it, and she looked far too old to be at school with them. The girl grinned deviantly at Michelle, and the dimples that appeared only made her more beautiful.

"My papa doesn't know about this one," she said, spinning. "I picked it up this morning. If I'm going to be dragged to the opera against my will, I'm going to knock that German boy flat on his ass!"

"Nadine!" Michelle covered her mouth. "You simply must watch your language!"

The beautiful girl, Nadine, rolled her eyes. "You'd swear, too, if you were raised by my papa."

"To be raised alone by a man," Michelle said, looking scandalized. "It's amazing you don't run about in slacks."

"Who says I don't?" Nadine turned away from Michelle and appraised Emma, who suddenly felt quite plain in the presence of this exotic beauty. "That's a Jacqueline Garnier dress," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Emma squeaked.

"It's a perfect fit on you," she said, suddenly all business. "The cut is just right. Did Meg do that one?"

"Yes," Emma said again. Did she not know any other words?

"She did a fabulous job. It's so easy to let black go flat and boring, but she makes it look wonderful. It's very flattering on you." She steered Emma into a chair in front of her vanity. "Now... I suppose you need help with this." Laughing, Nadine hefted Emma's hair. "You've got as much hair as I do! You poor girl."

Emma smiled weakly. "It does get very warm in summer."

"It's a saving grace in the winter, though," Nadine said. "Keeps your head wonderfully warm." Then, she went to work, her hands flying everywhere at once, pinning Emma's curls up in a style similar to her own, only a bit more elegantly, if it were possible. She turned Emma in her seat when she was done and began to go at her face with a powder puff, then a bit of makeup. When she pulled her in front of the full length mirror several minutes later, Emma barely recognized the beautiful girl in the mirror.

Her hair was twisted and piled in the most elegant style she had ever seen. Her eyes were framed by thick lashes and her lips were deep crimson. Her face was smooth and her cheeks rosy pink. The dress, which had been elegant before, now looked right on her. Diamonds glittered at her throat, a gift from her mother—she couldn't remember putting them there, and assumed that Nadine had added them at some point. Something in her hair sparkled, too, and Emma realized that it was pins with crystals on them.

"There." Nadine appraised her with pride. "You look lovely. You can say it, I won't mind. I know I'm a genius." She fanned herself dramatically, then winked. "I have to get going. I'm supposed to be down there in five minutes." She grimaced.

"Emma's meeting someone at six, too!" Michelle said excitedly. "You can walk down together!"

"Where are you off to?" Nadine asked, by way of conversation, it seemed.

"The opera. We're going to Aida with Anthony's roommate and a girl he's accompanying."

Nadine's green eyes sparkled with mischief. "I see. Well, we'd better get going. Best to not keep the boys waiting too long." She reached for her clutch—it was studded with diamonds—and waved at Michelle. "Brunch tomorrow, yes?"

"Of course." Michelle smiled at Emma. "You look beautiful, Emma."

"Thank you."

They walked down the hall in silence, Emma not sure what to say to this strange girl. She carried herself with an air of elegance that almost bordered on arrogance, but it was pride. It was as if Nadine knew that the girls they passed eyed her jealously. The school was full of girls from wealthy families, but it was clear that Nadine was one of the wealthiest.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Emma could see Anthony, dressed in a splendid tuxedo, waiting for her at the bottom. He stared up at her in wonder, and she smiled back at him. Next to him, his roommate, Felix, stared up at both of them, but he seemed to have eyes only for Nadine. When they reached the bottom, he reached out for Nadine's hand. She held it out, her face hard as he pressed his lips to the back of her gloved hands.

"Mademoiselle Laroche, you look splendid this evening." His voice held a heavy German accent. "You are truly a gem."

"I hope, for your sake, you are interested in more than my looks," she said haughtily, although Emma could see the way the other girl's cheeks flushed with pleasure at the sincere compliment.

Anthony was there a second later, kissing her hand and pulling her arm through his. As they walked out, Felix and Nadine behind them, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Words cannot accurately describe your beauty tonight, my lady. You are beautiful." His words were filled with wonder and affection. Emma felt her cheeks flame. He smiled kindly down at her. "Shall we?"

Emma nodded, glancing back at Nadine. Felix's eyes were glued on her, and she took the opportunity to mouth, "You're going with us?"

Nadine winked.

It had been a long time since Emma had been to an opera, and she had never been in Paris. She stared around in wonder from their box at the lavish décor.

"Do you like it?" Next to her, Nadine was reading over her program, not paying any attention to her surroundings.

"It's beautiful."

"My mother's uncle was the architect."

"Your mother seemed to greatly appreciate good architecture," Anthony said, polite as ever. "Your house is truly a work of art. Was it not your father who built it?"

"From the ground up," Nadine said proudly, looking up for the first time. "My room was modeled after my mother's tastes. Everything in shades of blue." She sighed wistfully, then glanced around the theater for the first time. Her eyes caught on something, and she squinted. Then she gasped and slumped down in her seat. "Oh, God," she moaned. "Of all the nights..."

"Nadine?" Emma rested a hand on the other girl's arm. "Are you quite alright?" She had buried her face in her hands, and the other three looked around in confusion. Suddenly, Anthony's eyes widened.

"Is he with the Countess de Rouen?"

Nadine growled, sitting up and glaring across the theater. "I despise that woman," she muttered mutinously. "She has the most obnoxious laugh I've ever—"

On cue, a shrieking laugh carried across the theater. Emma looked toward its source.

The first thing she was was Meg and Luc in a box directly across from them, looking massively uncomfortable as they stared straight forward. Behind them in the same box was seated a woman wearing the most ostentatious gown Emma had ever seen. It was garish—red and black—and pushed her generous bosom up almost inappropriately. Her graying brown hair was piled on top of her head and circled by a jeweled tiara. Diamonds glittered on most of her fingers and at her neck. She laughed again, shrieking, and the man at her side winced slightly, forcing a pained smile. He was older than Meg and Luc, that much was clear, and there were a few streaks of gray in his hair. Still, he was as dashing as a man twenty years his junior. A white mask covered half of his face. The other side was breathtakingly handsome. He wore a finely cut suit and white gloves.

This must be Nadine's father, her mother's friend, Erik Laroche.

She had no more time to study the strange, beautiful man, as the lights dimmed and the overture began.

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Erik was not sure how much he was meant to endure, as far as torture, as the opera dragged on. Normally, Verdi was something he enjoyed. However, being set up with the Countess de Rouen was making Verdi's long work seem like a hell of Meg's making. Early on in the show, he had decided that everyone in the room was staring at this insane woman, and Erik had focused harder on the opera than he ever had before.

By intermission, he was considering jumping off the balcony into the pit and begging the lead cellist, who he recognized from years before as someone who actually liked him, to kill him and put him out of his misery.

As the lights came up, he excused himself, saying that he would hurry back, but the Countess did not seem to notice. She was busy regaling Meg with some story from her youth about the opera.

Erik rushed into the hallway, grabbing champagne from a waiter as he passed and downing it in one. Just as he reached for another, he felt a pair of eyes burning holes into the back of his head. He turned.

Several feet behind him, Nadine was glaring at him as if trying to shoot him down with her green eyes that matched his. He frowned.

"It's nice to see you, too."

"What," she hissed through clenched teeth, "are you doing here with that woman?" She looked so furious that Erik actually took a step back.

"I didn't know she was coming," he said defensively. "I would have made myself sick to stay home if I'd known she was going to be here."

Nadine laughed derisively. "I'm sure," she growled. "I'm sure that insane dress she's got on has noting to do with it."

For the first time, Erik noticed what she was wearing, and he frowned. "Speaking of over revealing clothing, I hope you brought a wrap."

She glared again. Her eyes were green fire as she turned on her heal and stomped away from him dramatically. The figure had come from her mother, certain, but the dramatic flair was all him.

Back in the box, he glanced around for his daughter. She was sitting in a box across from his, and he was happy to see that Felix had taken him on his advice to take out his sometimes shrew-like daughter, and she was sitting at his side, hissing into the ear of a girl with curly brown hair. The girl wore a less revealing but no less lovely dress of black silk, obviously another of Meg's creations. He tapped Meg on the shoulder, and pointed. "Who's that girl she's with?"

Meg's face lit up with recognition. "Oh, I'm so glad she's out with Anthony! They're such a darling couple!" She smiled brightly. "That's Christine's daughter, Emma."

"Oh!" The Countess squealed unexpectedly at his side, and both of the winced. "Do you mean your friend, the Viscomtess de Chagny? Her daughter, Lady Emma?"

"The very same," Meg said stiffly.

"Oh, what a jewel! So very much in the likeness of her mother. Just lovely." Finally, something he agreed with the woman on. "I hear she is quite polite. So quiet, though. If she's out with Erik's girl, that won't last long, eh, Erik?" She nudged him with her elbow and he forced another smile. "Such a tragic young lady, to have lost her father so young. Don't they live in Nice now?"

"Marseille," Erik and Meg corrected automatically.

"Oh, Marseille, Nice—they're so close, does it matter? Anyway, it's a shame they had to move so far away. She was such a lovely woman, Christine. I hear she's quite the spinster now. Never leaves the house, I hear."

"What you hear, my dear Countess, is lies," Luc said. His teeth were gritted—he seemed to want to pummel this woman as much as Erik did. "Christine de Chagny is a dear friend of ours, and it would be appreciated if you would keep such falsities to yourself. Christine is, I can assure you, in excellent health. She merely keeps to herself and puts Emma's needs above her own. Her needs have never seemed to require a replacement for her father, so Christine does not spend all her free time throwing herself at any available man that comes along, unlike some widows deem necessary."

The Countess looked positively scandalized at Luc's outburst. Any other woman would have taken the cue to shut her mouth, but not this one. "I have never been so insulted," she gasped, fanning herself with a fan as brightly colored as her dress. "I, my dear sir, would never imply anything about the virtue of anyone! How dare you!"

Luc crossed his arms and muttered something under his breath about her virtue, and the Countess stood up suddenly.

"I know when I'm not wanted," she said dramatically. In the box in front of them, the couple that occupied it turned to stare. "I will not sit here and be insulted by the likes of you, Monsieur Cartier! Good night!" And with that, she stomped out of the box.

She had been gone all of a minute before Meg began giggling. She buried her face in her husband's shoulder as he shook with silent mirth. Erik chuckled into his fist. The three of them giggled through the rest of the show to the annoyance of those around them.

a/n I love breaks. I love no homework. It's extremely liberating. I am a free woman! Freedom from those who have imprisoned me! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (spins in circles) I have time to sleep again! R/R