Vi and Polly followed Madame Monique into the adjoining sitting room, which boasted a view of the gardens on the west side of the house. Dusk saturated the sky with red, purple, and orange. The lights of the stables winked in the distance.
As soon as they were all seated, Vi blurted, “I’ve been following your performances since I was a girl, Madame Monique. It is the utmost honor to meet you.”
“How kind, Miss Kent.” The Frenchwoman reposed as sinuously as a cat, curling her feet beneath her on the damask chaise. “Let us be friends. To you, I am Monique.”
Madame Monique wants to be friends… withme?
“Then I’m Violet, and this is Polly,” Vi said in a giddy rush.
Polly shyly wriggled her fingers in greeting.
Leaning forward, Vi said, “Your feats, Monique—they are incomparable! I have so many questions I want to ask you. How do you keep your balance standing on one leg on a moving horse? I’ve practiced and practiced and whilst I can stand, the instant I try to lift the other leg—”
“Pardon.” Monique’s brows arched. “Am I to understand thatyouwere attempting acrobatics?”
“Yes—though not in London, of course,” Vi said hastily. “Back in Chudleigh Crest, the village where I grew up, there was an open field behind our cottage. I’d just put on my trousers and—”
“Yourtrousers?”
“Well, not mine, really. I filched them from my brother Harry. The point is,” Vi said, “I practiced and practiced but could never sustain a one-legged pose for more than a second.”
The Frenchwoman stared at her. “Youarean unusual miss, are you not? Quite theingénue. I see now why you are so popular with the gentlemen.”
Something about the other’s scrutiny made Vi uncomfortable. “But I’m not—popular, that is.”
“There’s no need to play the coquette with me,chérie. I saw you at the performance this afternoon. Surrounded by a herd of young bucks,” Monique said in light tones, “and sitting next to a handsome young Adonis.”
“You mean Wick? He’s a chum,” Vi said quickly, “as are the others.”
After a pause, the acrobat gave a laugh as floaty as her leaps. “How delightfully modern you are. A woman after my own heart.”
The awkward feeling ebbed from Vi, pleasure thrumming in its place. The heroine of her childhood had complimented her on being modern and thought they were similar?Outstanding.
“Now you were asking about balance,” Monique said.
“Yes?” Vi was poised at the edge of her seat.
“The secret, my dear, is to trust one’s natural instincts. Those who fear to let go end up falling. To succeed, do not fight the moment, but rather,”—the diva flicked her fingers—“reap its glorious uncertainty.”
Vi tried to make sense of the advice. “You mean I shouldn’t be afraid of falling?”
“Fear leads to failure. To conquer fear, one must lean into it, laugh in its face. One must be bold, remorseless, willing to take any risk when it comes to art and life.Alors, you wish to know the secret to success?”
Vi nodded fervently.
“Don’t be fooled by love. Trust no one but yourself, and let nothing stand in your way.”A feverish glow lit Monique’s eyes. Although she was looking at Violet, her gaze seemed focused on something only she could see. “BeLaBelle Dame sans Merci.”
A shiver coursed down Vi’s spine. As much as she admired Monique, the other’s philosophy seemed a bit… ruthless. Then again, she told herself, if one’s job was to jump through a ring of fire day in and day out, such an unflinching attitude was probably necessary.
“Do you have, um, any specific pointers?” she asked. “When it comes to technique, I mean?”
Monique’s attention snapped back to her. “Lean into gravity’s pull rather than away from it. Use your arms for balance.” The Frenchwoman’s tone was crisp. “And train your horse so that you ride as one, each compensating for the other. I practice riding blindfolded.”
“Blindfolded? Now why didn’t I think of that?” Thoroughly impressed, Vi said, “I shall try that at the first opportunity—”
Jeanne’s voice came from the doorway, a diffident murmur of French.
“I am being summoned.” Monique rose in a graceful swirl of pink chiffon. “Please excuse me.”
