I offered a prim smile to cover the churning inside. “You’re in luck, because I’m not simply any woman.” Why must he speak so of the man who’d been such fun, who’d trotted me about the circus and forced me past my fear of heights? He may not be the finest choice for a suitor, but he made a most amusing and sincere friend.
Philippe’s face relaxed into a solemn smile, and he parted from me with a nod and a friendly “good day.” But his words had tainted the beautiful memory of the last few days, the freedomand delight I’d found in Jack’s presence, and I couldn’t bear it. The little-girl part of me wished everyone could get along and my favorite people all liked one another as much as I did.
Yet that wasn’t life. That wasn’t drama and theater.
21
The violinist began, and I stood, grounded and strong. Poised.The LORDis my rock, and my fortress.How right, how very sweet, to weave these precious lines from childhood into my adult dream. How well they melded into one beautiful work of art.
Then on cue I swept up into a bold arabesque, chest lifted, the words of the Eighteenth Psalm threading through my mind.And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly: yea, hedid fly upon the wings of the wind.Like the swans, I propelled myself across the stage with strength and precision, then slowed and opened my arms.
Several critical pairs of eyes were upon me, evaluating my every breath, but they felt almost distant.Yea, thou liftest me up above those that rise up againstme.
I spun, arms in close, then burst up into anassemblédessuswith all the strength in me and landed in a softdemi-plié. It was the first time I’d carried peace into my audition like a garment, and it allowed me to dance with more control and grace than before. Fear had settled into a tame fizzle around my middle, andthatcould be got around.
For by thee I have run through a troop; and by my God have I leaped over a wall.
A pas de bourreé and a leap, landing neatly in fourth position, one foot tucked back. I rose alone on the stage and braved a glance out into the audience, toward the face of the Great Fournier. Only a thin curtain of smoke obscured his features, and no frown. Not even a small one. There was only mild surprise and, what, a bit of softening perhaps?
Claps split the silence and my gaze snapped toward Jack Dorian, who lounged in another theater seat, one leg crossed over his knee as he alone applauded my audition. It made me smile. He often did that. Bobbing a quick curtsy, I took my leave and let the next dancer on. My legs still trembled, but I felt lighter. Stronger. I’d done better this time—I could feel it.
Just past the drawn curtain hovered a cluster of dancers gathered to talk while they waited—but they stood silent, watching me. Some faces glowed with a little surprise, others with a skeptical sort of envy, and all I could think was, I did it. I showed them. Now I belonged among them.
But there was little welcome.
“You were stupendous.” Tovah grabbed me by the shoulders backstage when the others had edged away. “You danced like you’d been at it forty years. All that extra practice has finally paid off, has it?”
“We’ll see, once the casting list is up.”
“You’re sure to catch a decent role, with dancing like that. Chin up.” She squeezed my arms again and hurried off to watch the next audition.
I turned and caught sight of Philippe Rousseau watching from the deep shadows of the backstage area, arms folded across his chest, and my heart jumped up into my throat. Howfortunate that I had not noticed him there until after my audition. His expressive dark eyes sparkled with interest, admiration perhaps, but he said nothing. Not that he had to. Delight fluttered in my heart and leaked out in a smile. He returned it.
I finally took a long, deep breath and began to allow my dreams to unfurl.
After the others auditioned, I hurried back to the long, narrow cloakroom and twirled dreamily down the length of it, pausing to grasp the soft folds of my cloak and breathe in the hope of possibilities.
“Congratulations are in order for the lady.” A low voice tinged warm with intimacy came from behind as I pulled my wrap from its hook.
I turned, air whooshing against the back of my bare neck. I glimpsed the face that was growing more familiar by the day. Jack Dorian. “Well, now.” Heart pounding from the shock, I reached for my bag and hat. The room felt even more narrow than normal, more overstuffed with wraps. “I know why they named you Jack, like the kind in the box. Popping up at random, frightening the ever-loving—”
“Don’t you want to know why I’m congratulating you?”
The edges of a playful smile curled my lips, though. “What have I won, another shove from a barn loft?”
His face brimmed with pleasure. “Paulina.”
I scrunched my nose and shoved my feet into a pair of too-big brown flats that blessedly did not pinch my sore feet. “What’s a Paulina?”
He shoved hair off his forehead and leaned against the trim of the doorway. “Oh, just another solo part in the ballet.”
I froze and my heart hit the floor—really and truly thudded on the long wood floor panels with the weight of shock.“ThatPaulina? But how do you know? They’ve not posted the list yet, have they?” It was no lead, but it was the best part I’d managed so far.
“Posted, no. Decided on, well...” He shrugged. “It pays to be friends with Jack Dorian.” He winked and urged me through the door. “Come, let’s celebrate.”
“What sort of part will you make Paulina?” We spun and giggled down the corridor as I searched his face for signs that this was all in jest. “Are her dances terribly complex? Will I have to learn a great deal of new combinations?”
His eyebrows rose in amusement as he guided me with light waltzing steps toward the door. “A wonderful one. Yes, and no.” He took my hand and spun me, my feet shuffling in the dust. “She’s Queen Hermione’s lady-in-waiting. There are plenty of servants and shepherdess parts, but none is higher than dear Paulina when it comes to servant roles.”
