The chaise longue was strewn with parcels and half opened boxes. Nestled in the white tissue paper was an assortment of dresses, corsets, petticoats, and gloves; more beautiful than anything she had ever possessed. There was a myriad of materials and textures, silk, wool, linen and lace. Each one excited Lisette’s senses as she ran her hands lovingly over them. She reached down and unwrapped a sapphire-blue evening gown. It had a fitted boned bodice with small, short sleeves and midnight-blue lace.
‘Aunt Marie, thank you...but how can we afford all this?’
Marie stood by her bedroom door. ‘I have been saving a little whenever I could. I knew this day would come.’
‘But still... I mean, I have never had so many things!’
‘Think of it as an investment and nothing more. Your career is just beginning to blossom and soon you will be the Imperial’s brightest star. You must look the part,’ Marie said as she crossed the floor. ‘Now, gather up these and put them in your room. Then we shall go to the theatre. We have been gone most of the day and there is much for me to do.’
‘Yes Aunt.’ Lisette glanced at the mantle clock. It was earlier than she thought and Evander would be waiting for her at the Hearth Fire. She scooped up her new wardrobe and carried it to her room and gently placed all the boxes, bags and parcels on the bed. After a moment or two of searching through the items she grabbed a brown paper parcel and quickly ripped it open. Inside was a simple day dress in fine lavender wool. Lisette ran her fingers over the material. It was soft and not at all prickly. She stripped off her grey dress and eagerly donned her new gown.
‘Lisette, it’s time to go.’
‘Coming, Aunt. I only need one more moment.’ Lisette opened a small blue box and withdrew a bottle of rosewater. She dabbed it behind her ears and along the column of her throat before snatching up her reticule and dropping the perfume into it.
‘Very well, but hurry!’
She picked up her new cloak, but paused for a second in front of her mirror. A soft smile spread across her lips when she saw her reflection. ‘I’m ready, Aunt Marie,’ Lisette called as she walked through the door.
Lisette and Evander met almost every day at the Hearth Fire and every night he watched her performance from his box. Each night he would whisper his pretty words into her ear and steal kisses in the darkened corridors of the theatre. Her heart began to soar as she dreamed of what their lives could be. With each passing day, Lisette found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him. Evander had stolen her heart and her kisses and she let him.
Evander caught and kissed her as soon as she walked into the Hearth Fire. Her lips softened beneath his and she wound her arms around his neck. Her fingers slipped through his silky hair as she held him close. She savoured his kiss and the way his strong arms cradled her. She wished that she could get closer to him; touch his skin with her fingertips. His hands roved up and down her back. And the idea of running her hands across Evander’s bare chest made it a little hard to breathe.
With reluctance, he pulled away. ‘I missed you.’
‘I missed you too,’ she said with a smile. Taking his hand she tugged him through the door. ‘Come with me.’
‘But where?’
‘To the theatre. I want to show you something.’
‘But what if we are caught by your aunt. I thought you wanted to keep our meetings a secret.’
‘My aunt is not there. She had business to attend to this afternoon. She said that she would not return to the theatre until just before the performance.’ Lisette tugged his hand a bit more firmly until he was walking beside her. Down the cobbled lane they walked and soon the stage door came into view.
‘All right, so what did you want to show me?’
Lisette opened the stage door and slipped silently inside. ‘One of my favourite places. Come on, Evander. It’s a secret place and no one goes there but me.’
‘Then lead on and I will follow.’
She led him down the silent corridor to the backstage. Lisette let go of Evander’s hand as she began to climb one of the tall ladders that were attached to the wall.
‘Lisette, where are you going?’
‘We are going up.’ Lisette pointed to the skinny catwalks that were suspended above their heads. ‘See? All the way up into the fly floor. Come on, Evander!’
Climbing steadily, they made it to the catwalk. Three connected walkways ran above the stage: one across the back wall and the other two over the stage itself.
‘I hope you have a head for heights.’ Lisette said as she walked on quickly.
‘Just as well I do.’
‘It’s just down here,’ she said as she stepped onto a few steps that led off the catwalk and into a long alcove. ‘We are going to that little door but under no circumstance can you walk through it. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, but why not?’
‘Because you will fall to your death and that would be a great shame, as I have become accustomed to you,’ she said as he walked closer. ‘Here, sit here and close your eyes.’
He gave her a questioning look but sat down just the same.
‘And close your eyes.’
‘Oh, very well.’ Evander said as he scrunched his eyes closed. ‘Satisfied?’
‘Yes, thank you very much,’ Lisette answered with a laugh. Quickly, she unlatched the bolt and pulled the door towards her, securing it open with a small hook. She sat down and moved close to Evander. ‘You can open them now.’
Lisette stared at him and hoped that he liked what he saw. She wanted him to like being this close to the gods and goddesses, she wanted him to know that this was a special place and for him to love it almost as much as she did.
His eyes widened with surprise. ‘We are so far up!’
‘Yes, we are up with the gods... Well, almost,’ Lisette said.
He leaned forward, although making sure he wasn’t near the edge, and looked up.
‘The painting is so vibrant from here. When you are down there, you can see the gods and the night sky. But this close... There’s so much detail.’
‘Do you like it?’
‘Yes, and thank you for sharing it with me.’ Evander moved closer and kissed her cheek. ‘Do you know who all the gods are?’
‘Yes, but that goddess there is my favourite,’ Lisette said as she lifted her hand and pointed.
‘Who is she?’ Evander’s arm stole around her shoulder and he drew her to him.
‘Terpsichore, the muse of dance and music.’
‘Now I understand why she’s your preference.’
‘No, it’s not that. She reminds me of my mother.’
‘Your mother must have been very beautiful. I’m sorry Lisette, I did not mean to make you sad. I wish that your mother was still here and that you had a loving childhood.’ Evander said before he gave her a hug and rested his chin on the top of her head. ‘And how long have you been sneaking away up here?’
‘Since I was a girl. I would come here and sit, think and dream.’
‘Dream of what?’
‘Becoming a great ballerina like my mother and being able to escape my aunt.’
‘You will, Lisette and I will be here by your side. Forever,’ Evander said as he moved in closer. ‘You can escape with me.’ His lips caught hers and slowly began a lingering kiss.
Lisette sensed his gentleness and it made tears prick at the backs of her eyes. Evander was sweet, considerate and loving. He was every prince from every ballet rolled into one. He had captured her heart but she wondered if his promise of forever could really be true. Would he be the hero of her storybook or was he merely an illusion and she was seeing only what she wanted to?
She prayed to God that she was wrong.
He laid her back on the dusty wooden floor. His fingers began to trail her torso, leaving a burning trail of fire; a fire she could feel through the material of her dress. His kiss was intoxicating as was his touch. Lisette was warm and her heartbeat fluttered as quickly as a s
wallow’s. The familiar feeling that she had first experienced when he had kissed her wrist resurfaced. Anticipation grew and she wondered what would come next. She wanted him, here, now and naked beside her, with her...in her.
Her tongue slipped between his lips and she heard a rasping growl from the back of his throat. He gathered her in his arms and his kiss became more ardent and demanding. The theatre slipped away and Lisette knew there was only Evander.
Evander’s hand moved lower, down her body, then her leg until it dipped beneath her skirt. With agonising slowness, it started to rise, winding its way back up her calf and gradually higher. Lisette tried to remember how to breathe.
‘Hellfire and damnation! Who opened that door?’ Tinder Michaels bellowed from the auditorium below. ‘Who is up there?’
The enchantment broken, Lisette sat up. She ran her hand down the side of Evander’s cheek.
‘We should go before he discovers us,’ she said as she clambered to her feet.
Together they hurried down the way they had come and managed to slip from view before they were intercepted by Tinder. As they neared the stage door, Lisette saw a figure.
‘There’s someone there, Evander.’
Evander took her in his arms and kissed her. It made Lisette wish that they were alone. Eventually he raised his head and she saw his eyes were darkened with longing.
‘Until tonight.’
‘Yes, until then,’ she said as he stepped away and strode towards the door.
Lisette fell back into the shadows and watched. Evander nodded to the man as he left but did not address him. She waited one minute and then another before she turned and hurried back to the dressing room.
Sally found Jack Preston, the critic for the Illustrated Theatre Review, loitering around Tommy’s deserted desk by accident. She was taking some discarded costumes back to the costume room when she almost walked straight into him.
‘Can I help you?’ Not that she wanted to, but as she looked around the area was deserted, so the irksome task appeared to have fallen on her shoulders.
Mr Preston appeared startled for a moment at Sally’s arrival. He was in his late twenties, of average height and would have had a pleasant face had it not been for the air of self-importance that lingered there. Sally pursed her lips as she looked him up and down. He had a lean frame and his eyes were a pretty green. Pity they were wasted on a man who was obviously so disagreeable. He removed his hat and ran his hand through his curly, sandy coloured hair.
‘I have an appointment to speak with Miss Florentia Cassaine.’
‘Right, follow me then,’ Sally said as she started to walk down the corridor without waiting for him. The less time she had to suffer his company the better. Her fists balled beneath the costumes she was carrying. She thought and mulled over of all the things she would have liked to say to him.
Jack hurried to catch up. ‘I’m Jack Preston.’
‘I know who you are.’
‘... Which leaves me at a disadvantage... You are?’
Sally stopped and regarded him as if he was a bug under a magnifying glass. ‘Sally Taft.’
‘Well, Miss Taft, it is a pleasure to meet you,’ he said with a broadening smile that Sally chose to ignore as she continued down the hall. ‘Are you a ballerina?’
‘I am one of the Corps de Ballet.’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh indeed, Mr Preston. I am merely one of the many chorus girls,’ Sally said sharply as she stopped in front of a door and knocked firmly. ‘No one of importance.’
She gave him a sideways glance. He seemed to be uncomfortable and his lips were now set in a thin line. Good. Well, maybe in some small way she had got a little of her own back. Not enough, but one should always be grateful for small mercies. Jack Preston and one of his horrid reviews had made her doubt her abilities as a dancer and even made her cry for a week. No, he deserved everything he got.
‘Enter.’
Sally opened the door. ‘There’s a Mr Jack Preston to see you, Florentia.’
‘Oh thank you dear, could you ask Lisette to join me?’
‘Of course,’ Sally said as she stepped away from the door and back down the corridor without a by-your-leave. There was no way in hell that she was going to acknowledge Jack Preston again, especially after what he had written about her.
Jack watched Sally go. He was slighted, annoyed and yet fascinated by the way her hips swayed back and forth as she disappeared down the darkened hall. He could feel her anger as if it was a prickly shield around her.
‘Mr Preston, do come in.’
Jack walked into Florentia’s private dressing room. She sat resplendent at her dressing table. Her dark hair fell in spiralling curls that were offset by the white gown she wore. It was loose on her slight frame and it was bordered by fluffy white feathers. He had forgotten how alluring Miss Florentia was up close, away from the glare of the footlights. Florentia was no longer a young woman but she was aging gracefully and was still beautiful.
‘Please won’t you sit?’
‘Thank you,’ Jack said as he sat in the nearest chair but his gaze kept straying to the door. ‘And thank you for granting The Illustrated Review an interview. I do believe Miss Taft is as fiery as her hair. She barely gave me the time of day.’
Florentia chuckled ‘That is not surprising, Mr Preston. She would hardly hold you in any regard after what you wrote about her. You only have yourself to blame.’
‘I’m sorry, I do not know what you mean.’
‘A little over six months ago, you wrote a less than favourable review of our ballet ‘In the Ruins of Delphi’. In it you criticized our corps de ballet and even though you did not name her, you did refer to ‘the girl with the ugly red hair’. I’m amazed that the girl deigned to speak to you at all. I wouldn’t have.’
Jack’s mind reeled as he desperately tried to remember the review and what exactly he had said. ‘Do you remember all your reviews, Miss Florentia?’
‘Hardly, but this one was different. It shook the corps de ballet to the core. Madame Devoré was incensed and Sally humiliated. I suppose I should congratulate you, Mr Preston.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t believe I have ever met a man who managed to simultaneously offend so many women with only a few words.’ Florentia gave him a smug smile before she continued. ‘Now, to business, I want to announce that Miss Lisette Devoré will be my protégé. I will personally mould her into the next prima ballerina. Her fame is on the rise and I wanted to share that with the Illustrated Theatre Review.’
‘So Madame Devoré has nothing to do with her training?’ Jack asked as he withdrew a pad and pencil from his jacket pocket and started to scribble down words at a dizzying pace. He tried to focus on what Florentia was saying, in an attempt to put the fiery Sally out of his mind.
‘No, no, Madame Devoré is a ballet mistress above equal. What I should have said is that I will train her privately as well as the instruction she takes from her aunt.’
‘I see. I wonder if Madame Dev —’ Jack never got to finish his sentence as Sally and Lisette appeared at the door.
‘Here she is,’ Sally said as she pointedly refused to look his way.
‘Ah, thank you Sally. Please come in Lisette and meet Mr Preston from the Illustrated Theatre Review. I was just telling him how you are to be my protégé and understudy,’ Florentia gushed as she held out her hand to the girl.
But Jack looked past the ethereal Lisette to Sally. ‘Miss Taft, I would sincerely like to talk to you for a moment.’
‘We have nothing to say to each other, Mr Preston. Good Day.’
‘Please, at least let me apologise,’ Jack said.
Sally’s eyes narrowed. ‘No, I think not. That would just be too easy,’ she said as she once again disappeared down the hall.
Jack blinked once at the empty doorway. For an insane instant he thought about going after her but if she couldn’t be bothered speaking to him, why should he? Ra
ttled, he looked down and tried to focus on his notebook. He took a breath and tried to get the redhead out of his brain.
‘I apologise for the interruption. Now, Miss Florentia, you were saying?’ But his question died in his throat as he raised his gaze and saw two sets of eyes regarding him with amusement.
Lisette walked Jack Preston through the foyer and to the front of the theatre.
‘Thank you, Miss Devoré,’ Jack said as Lisette unlocked one of the front doors. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you and I must add that I think you are sublime when you dance.’
‘Thank you, Mr Preston. That is very kind of you.’
‘It is the truth. Good day Miss Devoré,’ Jack said as he slipped out the door and into the busy street.
‘Good day, Mr Preston.’ Lisette waited until he turned around and briskly walked down the flight of stone steps at the front of the theatre.
‘Who was that?’
Lisette jumped. ‘You startled me,’ she said as she lifted her head and saw Tinder Michaels striding towards her.
‘It was not my intent. So who was that?’
‘Mr Jack Preston, the critic from The Illustrated Theatre Review. He had come to do an article on Florentia.’
‘More favourable advertising for our theatre... Excellent.’
‘We can hope. He appears to be quite a decent man, although I think that Sally would disagree,’ Lisette said as she started to make her way back to the dressing room.
Tinder held out his hand and touched her shoulder. The gesture was soft and gentle but Lisette was aware of the heat of his hand and how inappropriate it felt.
‘Please Lisette, can we speak for a minute?’
‘Very well,’ she said as she took a step away from him, thereby causing Tinder to drop his arm.
‘This may sound strange as I have never discussed it with you before...but I suppose I care for you in some way.’
‘What do you mean, Mr Michaels?’
‘Call me Tinder, and what I mean is that I do not want to see you get hurt, used and abandoned.’
‘I’m sorry, but I do not know what you are speaking of. No one threatens me... I assure you, I am quite safe.’
Dancing On Air Page 9