Dancing On Air

by Hurley-Moore, Nicole

  ‘Lord de Vale carries her walking stick. My aunt goes nowhere without it. She depends on it to walk. My aunt is dead, I know it now. She is dead and Vincent has murdered her.’

  ‘You can’t be sure.’

  ‘I am, Evander — I feel it in my heart,’ she said as they ran onto the stage.

  Evander caught her around the waist and briefly kissed her hard on the lips. ‘I need you to do what I say. I will hold him off here while you run.’

  ‘I will not leave you. We will face him together!’

  ‘No, I want you safe. If anything happens to me, go to Alistair... Go to my brother. He knows about us and my love for you. He will protect you.’

  Lisette shook her head. ‘No. Vincent is an evil man and I will not leave your side.’

  ‘You must. I will worry about your safety if you are here. Go now and hide or run for help. Just don’t let him find you, no matter what happens.’ Evander released her.

  ‘No! Come with me.’

  ‘Go Lisette! Now!’

  Reluctantly, Lisette started to back away towards the other side of the stage, her eyes never leaving Evander’s. Suddenly, the hollow sound of clapping echoed from the wings.

  ‘How very touching. The brave young hero defending his damsel in distress. And what an appropriate place to play out such roles. Obviously, Lord Gainswith, you have the flair for the dramatic,’ Vincent said as he slowly walked onto the stage.

  ‘You have no business here, de Vale.’

  ‘Oh, on the contrary. I have decided to take a trip, perhaps to sunnier climes. The English winter can be so cold and depressing.’

  ‘Then I will wish you bon voyage and will not detain you a moment longer.’ Evander watched as Vincent circled him in an unhurried pace.

  ‘Amusing Lord Gainswith, very amusing indeed. However, I intend to take Lisette as a travel companion. After much thought, I have decided to offer her the one thing you did not: marriage. It appears, as I have reached my middle years, I have been lax in begetting an heir.’

  ‘I’m afraid that will not be possible.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ Vincent asked with a thin smile.

  ‘Because Lisette is my wife. We were married at Temperly Edge some time ago.’

  ‘You jest.’

  ‘I do not. Lisette is Lady Gainswith, a fact that is known to my family. So, I’m afraid you must look for another companion elsewhere. You shall not have my wife.’

  Evander steadied himself for an attack as he saw rage contort Vincent’s face. De Vale’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the cane and Evander wondered if he would snap the wood in two. Instead, Vincent drew back his arm and threw the cane towards Evander like a petulant child. Evander was forced to step aside and the stick clattered harmlessly to the floor. Vincent launched himself at Evander, trying to grab him around the neck and throttle him, but Evander brushed his hands away. Evander threw a punch. It caught Lord de Vale across the jaw and sent him staggering backwards. He straightened up and spat the blood onto the stage.

  ‘A lucky punch.’

  Evander shrugged. ‘We’ll see, old man.’

  The words sparked Vincent on. Again he attacked but Evander easily countered and evaded his blows. They wove to and fro across the stage, jabbing, ducking, and Vincent receiving the lion’s share of the blows. Evander was younger and far more agile on his feet and de Vale appeared to reel under his attack.

  Lisette peered out from the opposite wing of the stage. She was hidden behind some of the props, the glittering trees from the fairy grotto. She should have run, but something made her stay... Evander made her stay. She could not think of her own safety when he was at risk. She bit down on her bottom lip so she would not make a sound and distract her love.

  Again Evander delivered a blow. This time it caught Vincent under his chin. The force of the punch not only snapped back his head but also lifted him off his feet. He fell through the air and landed in a crumpled ball not too far from Lisette. Holding her breath, Lisette sank lower between the painted boughs and waited.

  Evander strode forward and stopped somewhere near the middle of centre stage. He stared into the bleeding face of de Vale.

  ‘Yield. Put this folly behind you and leave, whilst you are still capable of walking,’ Evander said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A small trickle of blood smeared across his skin and down his white cuff. Even though he had delivered most of the blows, a couple of Lord de Vale’s had connected. ‘It is done, over; and Lisette is lost to you.’

  Vincent dragged himself up to a sitting position. There was blood down his shirtfront, his jacket dirtied and torn, and his left eye was already beginning to swell.

  ‘You see, that is where you are wrong. This isn’t over, and I will leave with Lisette,’ he answered with a bloody smile as his hand reached for a nearby lever.

  Lisette stood up from her hiding place. ‘Get back Evander, get back!’

  But it was too late. De Vale pulled down the lever and instantly the trapdoor opened under Evander’s feet. For an instant he flailed and then disappeared through the hole in the stage.

  ‘No!’ Lisette cried as she ran several steps forward, but Lord de Vale had gained his feet and he stood between her and the trapdoor.

  ‘Now Lisette, enough of this foolishness. Come with me... It’s time to leave.’

  ‘Never!’ Lisette spun around and ran as fast as she could. Ahead was a long ladder that led up to one of the catwalks high above the stage. Nimbly she scaled it. On reaching the top she looked down. To her dismay, Vincent was already climbing towards her.

  ‘Lisette, do not run from me. Come here at once.’

  With a shake of her head she called back, ‘No my lord. If you want me...you shall have to catch me!’

  Evander lay at the bottom of the trapdoor. Bruised and dazed, he closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. What a fool he was not to remember the damn trapdoor. He had watched Lisette use it every performance. He stood up and swayed as the world spun around him.

  It was then a sound caught his attention. He looked up. Through the opening he could see the catwalks and the scenery flies high above. The sound of running footsteps echoed through the cavernous theatre. As he stared he caught a glimpse of colour. Lisette’s blue skirts swirled above.

  ‘Sweet God, she’s up on the catwalk...and that only leads to —’

  Evander ran as fast as he could, past the corps de ballet dressing room and up the stairs that led to the stage level. He paused at the edge of the stage.

  ‘Lisette, I’m coming!’ he called loudly and prayed she would hear him.

  Lisette’s head peeked over one of the rails. Evander felt his heart in his mouth. She was so high up and he was terrified that she may fall. ‘No, Evander meet me at my secret place.’ She called down.

  ‘No love, not that. You can’t!’

  ‘It’s the only way. You know that!’

  ‘Why hello, Lord Gainswith. As you can see, you can do her no good all the way down there,’ Vincent taunted as he appeared at the far end of the fly floor.

  ‘Hurry, Evander!’ Lisette said as she started to run.

  Not waiting another moment, Evander sprinted down the narrow steps at the edge of the stage and ran through the deserted stalls. On the opposite wall was a door and he wrenched it open as he reached it. Beyond was a staircase that led to the dress circle, theatre boxes and above the cheap seats in the gods. He ran up the stairs as fast as he could and prayed to God that he wouldn’t be too late.

  Lisette ran along the narrow catwalk. At different intervals large ropes and pulleys were secured onto the thin railing. Not much further now. Ahead, a few steps trailed off the walkway to a long alcove. It was a long forgotten space, a leftover from when several small candle-lit crystal lights were hung in the empty space between the stage and above the theatre boxes. The lights were gone as was the skinny access walkway, but the door remained: a door that now opened out into nothingness; an abyss that ended
in the orchestra pit. It was her only route of escape, as any other way would lead her back to Vincent.

  She pushed down the panic that was beginning to rise within her. It was just a leap and she knew how to do that. She was the prima ballerina of the Imperial Theatre. She had trained ever since she had been a child to leap, jump and dance on air. There was no difference. This was a jump just like any other.

  She unbolted the door and carefully opened it. She swallowed once and told herself not to look down. She was up so high it was dizzying. She could see the whole theatre, the stalls, dress circle, theatre boxes and the cheap seats. Lisette was so close to the ceiling she wondered, if she reached out, if she could touch one of the painted stars that was nestled in the midnight-blue sky.

  Not quite six feet away was the cream balustrade that ran around the top tier of seating. Large swags of gold painted plaster roses hung in intervals from the rail and every now and then a fat cherub sat between. The seats were below her. With luck and a great leap she should be able to make it. She swallowed again as she looked down. At least if she fell, her death would be quick.

  ‘Lisette!’

  Evander stood across the way and with his presence she felt the panic disappear.

  ‘Lisette, please don’t do this.’

  ‘I have no choice. There is no other way out. Vincent has followed me up here.’ She paused, raised her head and smiled. ‘I love you, Evander...with all that I am.’

  ‘And I love you... Forever.’ And the look in his eyes spoke more than the simple words that tripped off his tongue. ‘Jump then, love, and I will catch you.’

  Lisette whirled around and ran back to the end of the alcove. Looking back out across the catwalk she saw that Lord de Vale was close.

  ‘Stop this nonsense, Lisette,’ he growled as he increased his pace.

  Lisette took a deep breath as she faced the opened door. She sent up a quick prayer for deliverance and then began to run. Pushing herself, Lisette increased her speed and at the very edge of the chasm she launched into a grand jeté. Time appeared to slow as the wind raced around her and for an incredible instant she thought she was flying. She could see Evander below, his arms outstretched, ready to catch her. His face was set with determination as she neared.

  One heartbeat, two, and then Lisette felt his strong arms wrap around her. They stumbled backwards together, hugging and laughing through their tears.

  ‘You caught me,’ she said as she hugged Evander tight.

  ‘As if I wouldn’t,’ Evander replied with a splash of bravado.

  He kissed her then, and she tasted the fear and relief on his lips. The kiss was soft and rough and desperate. After a moment he pulled back and looked into her eyes. ‘Dear God in heaven, never scare me like that again.’

  Lisette laughed as she stood up. Holding out her hand she waited for him to grab it and she pulled him to his feet.

  ‘I’ll try!’

  Vincent de Vale watched as Lisette sailed through the air. She was perfection, a triumph, and something he needed to possess. A tiny voice of reason whispered that he should leave. There was still time to escape abroad. He should turn his back on this cursed theatre and seek out friendlier shores. But he watched as the young lord caught his bride, and the jealousy and rage turned again in his heart. They looked at each other with such pure adoration that their love was almost tangible. It sickened him and clawed at his soul.

  Lisette had refused him. No one ever does that. His hands clenched by his side, his nails biting into his flesh. He would show her what happens to those who defy him; teach her a lesson and mould her into the perfect society wife. He would allow nothing or no one to stand in his way. Lisette was his, just like her mother and aunt. All the Devoré women belonged to him and he would not allow some young pup to take Lisette.

  With resolve singing through his blood, Vincent swung around and stalked back to the end of the alcove, shrugging out of his jacket as he went. If Lisette could make the jump, he could as well. He turned and ran back towards the open door. He jumped into the void. Below him he saw the shocked faces of Gainswith and Lisette. He was going to make it. Revenge would be his. He would make Lisette pay for ever rebuffing him. He would kill Gainswith whilst Lisette watched... He... He....

  He was falling short of his goal. Straining his arms forward, he tried to reach the balustrade, but it slipped past him. With growing horror he watched as Evander reached over the railing and tried to grab him. For a second their hands touched but did not hold. With a scream of denial ripping from his throat, Vincent fell headlong towards the orchestra pit and certain death.

  Evander felt Lisette’s touch on his shoulder. ‘I tried, Lisette. I almost had him.’

  He stared down at the broken body that was once Lord Vincent de Vale. His body was at odd angles as it was draped over the chairs in the orchestra pit.

  ‘Shhh. Come away, Evander. You did all you could, and more than he deserved,’ Lisette said.

  Her arms tightened around him. He turned and embraced her, Lisette’s head rested against his chest and a peace settled over him. ‘We will be together always and I promise with each passing day I will love you all the more.’

  ‘Such pretty words, Evander.’

  ‘And I mean every one of them,’ he said before he dipped his head and kissed her.

  Lisette walked into the breakfast room of their Pimlico residence to find Evander munching on toast and marmalade whilst reading the Illustrated Theatre Review.

  ‘Good morning, Evander.’

  ‘Ah, good morning, my love. It appears that our Sally has an admirer.’

  ‘She does?’

  ‘Yes. Well, if this review is anything to go by. It’s written by a certain Mr Jack Preston and, reading between the lines, I would say that he’s besotted.’

  ‘Really? I thought there was something between them when he was last at the theatre. Although I am not sure of his chances. Sally seems to loathe the man. He did once have the gall to refer to her hair as an ugly red colour.’

  ‘From what’s written here, I imagine he is eating his words. Perhaps his review may change her mind.’ Evander put down his toast and cleared his throat.

  ‘The Imperial Theatre has had a challenging time of late. Her talented ballet mistress, Madam Devoré, was murdered, her body discovered in an alley not far from the theatre. It is believed the culprit was the long time acquaintance of the victim, Lord de Vale, who fell to his death in the theatre. Adding to the tragedy, one of the greatest ballerinas of our time, Florentia, was injured during a performance. Her injury is so severe there is doubt she will ever dance again. This disaster thrust Miss Lisette Devoré into the limelight. She is a ballerina of par excellence. Of course the most surprising (and might I say, delightful) news is that the sublime Miss Lisette Devoré married Lord Evander Gainswith and therefore retired from performing. Lord Gainswith’s gain is a heavy loss to the ballet world. Although that being said, The Illustrated Theatre Review and I wish them the very best.

  ‘Yes, a trying time indeed for The Imperial and her new owner, Mr Tinder Michaels. One could almost believe there is a curse hanging over the theatre. I, too, may have thought as such if I had not witnessed the debut of the sensational Sally Taft. Miss Taft has brought a passion and — dare I say — a sensuality that was absent before. I, along with the entire audience, was captivated and enthralled by Miss Taft’s interpretation of the fairy princess. I wish her well and predict Miss Taft is at the threshold of an extraordinary career.

  ‘Whatever trials and tribulations the Imperial Theatre has sailed through, there can be little doubt that it produces exquisite ballerinas of unequalled talent and grace. Jack Preston, Theatre Critic and devotee of the rising star that is Miss Sally Taft.’

  ‘Hmm, maybe Sally will forgive him... Although I think it will take a little more than a nice review. Having said that, I have always found it difficult to refuse a man who uses such pretty words.’

  Evander dropped the paper and ha
uled Lisette onto his lap. He dropped a kiss onto her mouth before giving her a smile. ‘I love you, Lady Gainswith.’

  ‘And they’re the only words I ever need to hear.’

  There was a knock at the door as Harris entered the room. He bit back a smile when he saw Lisette in Evander’s lap. Unfazed, he approached the table carrying a small parcel.

  ‘Apologies for the intrusion, but this parcel has just arrived, Lord Gainswith.’

  ‘Thank you Harris.’ Evander took the parcel. Lisette made a move to stand up but his spare arm tightened around her waist. ‘No, stay where you are. I like having you near,’ he said as he kissed her cheek.

  ‘Alright. Were you expecting a parcel?’

  ‘No.’ He turned the small box over and immediately recognised the bold handwriting. ‘Whatever it is, it’s from Alistair.’

  Evander quickly unwrapped the brown paper and discovered a narrow wooden box. He opened the lid and found a letter and a roll of what looked like parchment. He picked up the envelope, broke open his brother’s wax seal and took out the letter.

  Dearest Evander,

  I send my congratulations and felicitations to you and my new sister, Lisette. It occurred to me that I have been lax in sending you a wedding gift. I hope that you both will find it in your hearts to forgive me. I wish you happiness and joy and hope that you will receive me when I return from Gainswith Park in a fortnight. Until then, I hope you will accept my gift as a sign of my abiding love and regard.

  In a sense it has always been yours, brother. I don’t know why it took me so long to see it.

  Yours faithfully,

  Alistair.

  ‘I don’t understand, Evander. What has he sent you?’

  Evander upturned the envelope and a key fell into his trembling hand. The key was five inches long and an inch in width; it was made of metal and was very old.

  ‘He’s given us Temperly, love.’ He rolled the key in his palm. ‘Alistair has given us Temperly as a wedding present.’