“Ella Blythe. From London, ma’am.” I ducked from her gaze. “I’m here on scholarship.”
But that only deepened her frown, one eyebrow raising. “Scholarship?”
“Yes, through Craven. I’m contracted to dance for them exclusively in exchange for my training.”
Her stare seemed to last an eternity. Then it broke with a swish of her blue poplin skirt. “We’d best keep this to ourselves, no? You needn’t let the other girls know you’ve come here for free, for they’ll only despise you more.”
I laughed. “I’m certain that’s not possible.”
She turned, standing as a statue with that lamp accentuating her elegant features. “I assure you,” she said in measured tones. “It is quite possible.”
The air suddenly felt heavy under her stare. The distant clock chimed once, marking the quarter hour. I’d lost all sense of the time.
“You should know that Fournier operates a unique sort of theater.” She set the lamp on the table and opened the glass to light a smaller one to leave behind. “You’d best be excellent at memorizing combinations if you hope to stay.”
I cringed. Memorizing them was my weakest point as a dancer. Nothing caused me more stumbles and hesitations than forgetting what came next.
“Rather than going to the expense of traveling with his company, the Great Fournier holds all performances right here in the theater, with just weeks of preparation in between each one.”
I frowned. “How can the dancers possibly—”
“As I said, you must become exceptional at memorizing combinations. He is a master at rearranging a series of combinations into a completely new dance, telling a fresh story, over and over. That has become Craven’s model and it has worked well for many years.” Her gaze lingered.
“Thank you for explaining it to me.”
“Minna and the others, they shall make it their business to catch you off guard. It’s best to arm yourself with as much knowledge and experience as you can, and very quickly. Then ... do what you can to make friends with them. They are terrible chums, but dangerous enemies.”
When Mama Jo left, I spent a few quiet moments shakingoff a sense of doom and looking over the contents of my new roommate’s cosmetic table—the bold red lip grease, the pink tin of rice powder, the many stoppered bottles of different colors and sizes. What sort of woman was she? Perhaps she could be a confidante in the way Lily had been.
My curiosity shuddered to a firm halt when I heard a thump outside, then ascratch-scratch. It was nearby, somewhere just outside the window. I leaped into bed fully clothed, shucking my boots, and tried to ignore the noises. I had a third-floor room, and it was likely a feral cat or some such nonsense.
Then, abang.
The LORDis my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORDis the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
I was trembling by the time the window to my little sanctuary burst open and a pile of skirts and finery tumbled in. Then, a face appeared among the fabric. Minna Frank rose, a white porcelain pillar of disdain, and glared down at me. “What are you doing in my room?”
Herroom? I groaned and shrank farther beneath the coverlet. Understanding wrapped its tentacles around me. Of all the devious, underhanded ... There was no denying it—Mama Jo had once been a dancer.
Minna came toward me, heeled boots stabbing the floor with each step. “Where exactly did you come from?”
I harnessed all my poise. “The boardinghouse was recommended to me. Mama Jo placed me in this room.”
“Did she, now?” Her gaze lingered, but she turned, discarding her wrap and allowing me to breathe again.
“The choice was certainly not mine.” I caught sight of myself in the long mirror across from the bed as I heard those words leave my mouth, and suddenly I sawher. I saw Mama in thelift of my chin and the defensive way I spoke, and it horrified me, as if I’d spotted a ghost in the mirror.“We are sosimilar, you and I. Yet I want nothing more thanfor your story to be wonderfully different than mine.”
And it would be. It would. If I had to bend the future to my will, it would not take the same tragic turn as Delphine Bessette’s. I had complete control over what became of me, of my career and my life. Things would only happen that I let happen.
I rolled over on the bed with a creak of springs. I had to prove to them all that she couldn’t intimidate me. It was the worst turn of events since coming back to Craven, and in the moment, I couldn’t imagine anything more troubling.
Then I met Jack.
6
He was tall and blond with a sparkle of amusement flickering in every feature—and he was mocking Signore Bellini from behind. He mimicked the man’s impassioned rant in grand, sweeping gestures as Bellini carried on.
“What sort of circus is this? Your landings are all over the place.” Bellini stalked up the rows. “You must move as a unit.Is that trulyso hard for you to grasp? Move asone.”
