Dancing On Air (4 page)

‘John! Where’s John?’ Charlie called out. ‘I almost lost the bloody wig. That bitch knocked it when I caught her!’

‘Here, I’m here, Mr Evans.’ John was a small man of about sixty years old. He hurried forward carrying a royal blue coat.

‘Damn it, man! You know this is a quick change. Now hurry,’ Charlie said as he took his frustration out on John. He stood still as John slipped the costume on him. The little man fussed and primped over Charlie until every detail met with his approval, including his wig.

‘That’s enough. The curtain is about to go up.’

John stepped back and Charlie walked out on stage and took his position. The last of the standing candelabra were being set in place when Bessie Rafter arrived. As she pushed past Lisette, she gave her a dirty look.

‘Out of the way, or you’ll make me miss
my
entrance.’

Lisette rolled her eyes but said nothing. Bessie had been a member of the chorus until recently. She had a pretty, almost doll-like face and was a good dancer. However, since she had been given a larger role, she had been insufferable.

‘Yes and we all know how you managed to get that part,’ Sally said. A ripple of muffled giggles ran down the line of waiting girls.

‘You’re all jealous,’ Bessie said with a shake of her blonde head. She swung around and looked out towards the stage. ‘I got the part because I dance better than the rest of you.’

‘No, you got it because you batted your eyes and lifted your skirt for the new owner.’ Sally dropped her voice to a whisper.

Bessie moved closer to Sally and hissed in her ear, ‘I did not sleep with Tinder Michaels.’

‘Perhaps not but you certainly made sure you got his attention. And that is why you got the part. He asked Madame Devoré and she could not deny the new owner’s wish, even if she wanted to. Every one of us knows who should have got the part.’

‘Enough,’ Lisette said as the orchestra began to play. ‘Bessie, look to the task at hand or you’ll miss your cue.’

With annoyance still flashing in her eyes, Bessie turned around and faced the stage. Silence settled backstage as the great velvet curtains began to part. Then, as the music started to soar, the girls leapt onto the stage and into the flare of the footlights.

Backstage was chaotic as the company wound down from a near perfect performance. The girls in the chorus dressing room chatted and laughed as they changed out of their costumes, all of them eager to leave the theatre behind for another night, all of them eager to return home to their families or fall into the arms of their lovers.

‘Lisette, will you come to Benny’s?’

Lisette looked up and smiled at Alice. ‘No, not tonight.’ The thought of sitting in a crowded coffee house was the furthest thing from her mind. ‘Perhaps tomorrow.’

‘If you change your mind, a group of us will be there.’ The girl said with a shrug.

‘Thank you, but all I want to do is seek out a light supper and my bed.’

Sally wove her way past the girls until she stood in front of Lisette and Alice.

‘We’re all going to Benny’s. Hurry and change,’ Sally said.

Lisette shook her head. ‘No, you go. I’m going home to bed.’

‘But you can’t walk there by yourself,’ Sally said with concern.

‘It will be fine. I shall wait and return with my aunt. Go, both of you, and have a good time.’

Sally hesitated but Alice stood up from her chair. ‘Come on Sally.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course,’ Lisette answered and waved them off with her hand. ‘Go!’

There was a flurry of activity as the majority of the girls left the room en mass. The ballet chorus were generally the first to leave. Florentia and the other principals lingered until their adoring public had time to gather by the stage door. Nothing made Florentia happier than having to push her way through a line of besotted young lords. They gave her flowers, trinkets and kissed her hand. Each of them, begging for a moment of her time or a private supper. But she would simply smile and, with an armful of roses, step up into her waiting carriage and drive off into the night.

Lisette put her grey dress on and slipped on her worn shoes. She wrapped her shawl around her thin shoulders to ward off the chill in the air, and went in search of her aunt. She walked down the corridors and smiled goodnight to the stagehands as she passed. Lisette continued up the narrow staircase that led to her aunt’s office. She had just reached the landing when she heard voices coming from within. She raised her hand to knock on the half-open door, but hesitated when she saw a well-dressed lord inside. Curiosity piqued; she slipped behind the door and listened.

‘I want her, my dear Madame Devoré.’ He used her formal title but his voice was soft and intimate like a lover’s.

‘Yes, yes. I understand. But I need a little time, Vincent. The girl has no knowledge of our arrangement.’

Lisette peeped through the crack of the door and watched as Lord de Vale sat down at her aunt’s desk and put his booted feet on the desk surface. He was elegant and had a handsome face but there was something about him, something that always made Lisette shudder. Lord de Vale was a close acquaintance of her aunt. They had known each other for a long time. Lisette seemed to remember that they had met whilst she and her aunt — and even her mother — were still living in Paris.

‘Do you anticipate a problem?’

‘Not really, but the girl is young and I believe she would need convincing.’

‘Am I not enough?’ Lord de Vale said and Lisette saw his dark eyes glitter dangerously.

‘That is not what I meant. She is young and easily besotted with attention and pretty baubles. All I am saying is, this one you may have to woo...just a little.’

‘Ah, a challenge, how amusing!’ he said with a laugh. The anger had passed and his eyes were clear. ‘I shall begin the hunt tomorrow. This could be the most refreshing thing that has happened in months.’

Marie Devoré smiled. ‘Vincent, you won’t break this one, will you? She is a good dancer and does show promise.’

‘The last incident was unfortunate. I lost control but it will not happen again. I shall return your little ballerina virtually intact.’

‘That is all I ask.’

De Vale stood up, a thin smile etched on his lips. ‘No Marie, we both know that you want far more than that. Come, I shall take you home and we will discuss your compensation.’

‘Why thank you, Vincent. It is always such a pleasure,’ Marie said as she inclined her head. Marie picked up her cloak and swung it about her shoulders. Vincent crossed the room and ran his fingers along the dark green ribbons of her cloak. He picked them up and tied them in a perfect bow at Marie’s throat. His movements were slow and sensual.

Marie touched his left hand. Two ugly, jagged cuts were slashed across the back of his hand and disappeared beneath his cuff. ‘I see that you are healing well. Are you still in pain?’

‘No. My arm is a little stiff but other than the possibility of a scar…I am healed.’

‘I am glad. You gave me a terrible fright.’

‘No more than I gave myself. Since the damn horse threw me, my mortality flashed before my eyes. Duty hangs heavily on my mind, something I never thought would happen. Death lingers in the shadows and once seen it is hard to forget. Dear God, I have finally become my Father! He was always so concerned about the bloodline and the continuation of the family. As much as I baulk at the very idea, it appears I must prepare for the future.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘That I have reached forty and do not have an heir. I have no child, no one to carry on the De Vale family name,’ he said with a bitter laugh.

‘You mean you have no
legitimate
heir.’ Her lips twitched at the corners.

Vincent’s hands stilled and he raising an enquiring eyebrow, ‘My dearest Marie, whatever do you mean?’

‘That I think you should question Florentia,’ Marie said with a widening smile. ‘Ah la, to have to think of such things. Once these sorts of matters would never have crossed our minds.’

Vincent smiled as he gently ran his hand down her cheek. ‘Ah yes, our time in Paris was magical, was it not? Remember Marie, when we were young? You were the prima ballerina. Your perfection is the bar that the others will never reach.’

‘Even my sister?’ Marie delivered the question with such venom, it took Lisette by surprise. Her aunt had always told her she had taken her in, because of the love and affection she held for her sister. What Lisette saw in her aunt’s face was more akin to hatred than love.

‘Yes, your technique surpassed hers.’

‘And yet it was she who won the adulation of the crowd.’

‘But we stopped that, didn’t we?’ His finger slid down the side of her cheek. ‘It was always you, Marie. You had the talent and the passion.’

Lisette stepped back and leant against the office wall. Her mind raced with unexplained questions. Quickly, making sure that she didn’t make a sound, she made her way around the far end of the corridor. She could hear her aunt’s laughter, which was an oddity in itself. Marie Devoré was a brittle and unbending woman. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe, tight bun, her dresses were always simply cut, unadorned and in dark, brooding colours. She was thin, hard and unforgiving. She peeped around the corner and watched as Lord de Vale and her aunt walked out of the office. Marie linked her arm with his, instead of leaning on her walking stick. They left together, chatting in hushed tones. Lisette sank down the wall and sat on the floor, and wondered what it could all mean.

Evander had managed to give his friends the slip. They had tried to get him to join them for supper and then some gambling at the Devil’s Mount Club. But he had resisted and said that he had other plans. They had laughed when they found him buying a single pink rose from the flower girl at the bottom of the theatre steps and assumed that he was going to try and meet Florentia. Anthony had said that he had a snowflake’s chance in hell for Florentia to even speak to him. Finally he had convinced them to leave him to his own devices. Without a backwards glance he hurried down the narrow land to the stage door. There were a dozen or so gentlemen, most with bouquets in their hands milling about. One man with an elaborate and oversized bouquet sneered at Evander and the single rose he was holding.

‘Miss Florentia won’t look at that twice,’ he said.

Evander was about to respond when the door was thrown open and revealed the stunning Florentia. She was small with a heart-shaped face. Her dark hair was arranged in long, loose curls that framed her face and gave her a more youthful glow. She was delicate and yet there was a vivaciousness about her. She paused on the highest step and let the men push a little closer. With a smile fixed on her face, she addressed the group.

‘Why thank you, gentlemen. It is so lovely to see you all. I do hope you all enjoyed tonight’s performance.’ Gracefully she descended the small flight of steps. Two large men flanked her on either side. They allowed the men to present their bouquets but made sure they kept their distance.

‘Miss Florentia, please accept this as a token of my love.’

‘Miss Florentia, I die at your feet!’

‘Miss Florentia... A moment I beg you.’

Florentia thanked each man for the flowers, but she did not stop. All too soon she was stepping into her carriage and waving to her suitors as if she was a queen. Her two men made sure that the carriage wasn’t swamped and that the horses were not impaired. She blew one last kiss to her fans before the carriage raced down the darkened alley.

Evander walked up the stairs and through the door.

‘Hey, you can’t come in here!’ said the old man sitting behind a small desk. ‘You have missed Miss Florentia. Maybe you should try another night.’

Evander turned and faced the elderly man. ‘I have not come to see Miss Florentia.’

‘Really?’ the old man eyed him with renewed interest. ‘Then just tell me, who have you come to see?’

‘Miss Lisette.’

‘Lisette!’ Slowly he stood up; it appeared to be a struggle as his arthritic bones rebelled against the movement. ‘Come then, young man. Let us see if we can find her. Now, not a word to any you may meet, let me do the talking.’