Madeleine Fournier walked briskly towards the performers' dressing rooms.
Thanks to Henri, she had more work than she really needed tonight of all nights.
Élise Moreau had decided to pay the theatre a return visit in order to perform her newest dance. It had been almost four years since her last appearance here, Madeleine thought as she passed a faded poster on the wall celebrating that performance.
And now she was back.
Unfortunately, like many celebrities, she had acquired an ego to match her reputation.
Something had apparently gone wrong with her costume—or at least that was what Henri had told her—and she was now refusing to perform unless it was fixed.
“Vous êtes responsable du département des costumes de ce théâtre et je m'attends à ce que vous régliez ce problème.” (You are in charge of the wardrobe department of this theatre, and I expect you to fix it.) Henri Beaumont had delivered the instruction with all the subtlety of a railway locomotive.
“Henri—” (Henri—) Madeleine had tried to interrupt.
She needed to get back to what she had been doing. She needed to speak to the American girl. She needed to find out what Jon had discovered. More importantly, she needed to know whether his plan had any chance of working.
“C'est Monsieur Beaumont pour vous.” (That's Mr. Beaumont to you.) Henri's reply had been immediate.
Madeleine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Désolée, Monsieur Beaumont. J'ai beaucoup à faire ce soir.” (Sorry, Mr. Beaumont. I have a lot to do tonight.) She did her best to hide her irritation.
“Je me fiche de ce que vous faisiez. Nous avons besoin que cette représentation se déroule parfaitement. Comme vous le savez, le théâtre ne se porte pas très bien ces derniers temps et nous avons besoin de l'argent que la présence d'Élise Moreau apportera. Alors allez régler ce problème, quel qu'il soit.” (I don't care what you were doing. We need this performance to go perfectly. As you know, the theatre has not been doing very well lately, and we need the money that Élise Moreau's appearance will bring. So go and fix the problem, whatever it is.)
With that, Henri waved her away.
As much as she hated to admit it, Henri was right. The theatre needed the money this performance would bring. If that meant dealing with a diva like Élise Moreau, then so be it.
Even if it meant that other things would have to wait a little longer.
