“How becoming these would look in your dark hair.”
She stared, my words not crossing the language barrier, or perhaps the wall of fear, so I leaned near and held the floweragainst her grimy hair, then at the shoulder of her once-white gown. “Here, or here. Either place would suit, no?” Finally I tucked it against her cap sleeve and tipped my head with a smile. “Magnifique.” The touch of color did wonders.
She blinked, lips parted, then looked at the creation and back at me with a flicker of a smile in return, and that glimmer warmed the hollow places of my heart. I had so little of it myself, but giving love away filled something deep within, where the cracks had become far too large.
When she scurried off with my sash, I rose to catch up with Minna, who frowned at me. “You’re inviting trouble. Give in to one, and you’ll have ten more running up with their hands out.”
Fortunately, sashes were replaceable, and kindness, as Mama had always said, was free. To this new acquaintance, I simply smiled and said, “Thank you. I’ll remember.”
“Come, you need to meet the others.” Minna pulled me along, and we approached the othersujets, dancers chattering and spinning in a cluster at the center of the stage, and I backed away, feeling the intruder. Yet my beautiful new friend drew me into the group with an arm about my shoulders and a bold smile. “Ladies, welcome our newest member—and the perfect one to be the angel.” Pulled into the flurry of dancers, I felt myself instantly caught up in their delight, and it made me happy, almost to the point of tears. The Paris theater world had been so hard. So foreign, so corrupt, so difficult. But now I washome.
Another girl looked me over. “You think she should be the angel?”
“Be gracious, Rosalie. Besides, it’s only here, with us, just to see if she’ll fit. Then we can suggest her to Fournier. Can’t you be the least bit welcoming? Come, let’s see if she’ll fit.”
I blinked. “What do you mean, fit—?”
Minna hustled me toward the back of the stage. “Let’s just try it, shall we?”
Before I knew it, I was strung up in a halter around my waist, ropes tied around my wrists and legs. Panic beaded over my skin, but it was too late. I tugged at the halter. How could I admit my deepest, most foolish fear to these girls who’d just begun to accept me? “I thought we were finished for the night.”
“Just for fun. We sujet are a chummy little group. If we can help you achieve a wonderful role, we’ll do it.”
Then Minna gave the word, and the rope went taut, hoisting me up, higher and higher until the air felt too thin. My vision doubled, then refocused as I looked over the auditorium and the scrollwork on the balconies so far away. The lever thunked into a locked position, and I had the dizzying sensation of claustrophobia—yes, even up in the air.
How high it was. How very high. There was no way to control this thing, and a million terrible ways to land. I imagined them all as sweat gathered along every crevice of my body.
Then a burst of laughter sounded below. I strained to see their faces, these beautiful girls in tulle and satin. Minna turned that lovely white face like a Dresden figurine up at me, her voice echoing. “Well now, look who has reached the top on her own adorable merits.” She approached, smiling with a tilt of her head as I swung above her. “You are adancer, you know. Just who are you saving your virtue for, anyway?” She laughed and the others skittered away. Then she followed with bouncing little steps, and they were all gone.
ThereI hung, trembling and alone, the farthest thing from an angelic creature that ever lived. As the echo of their voices faded, silence wrapped itself about the theater, folding me into its chill.The gaslight shadows were dark fingers climbing the walls with each flicker of flame, and a low moan shuddered through the drafty space. A spark of the sacred Psalms lit through my mind.
LORDmy God, in thee do I put my trust: save mefrom all them that persecute me, and deliver me.
I held still enough to feel my heartbeat, my erratic pulse, and simply breathed, a sudden awareness settling heavy on me of all those legends, the story of Delphine Bessette’s ghost in this very theater. I could hear Mama’s voice in my mind, as if it echoed about the auditorium, warm and alive and almost pleasant despite the eeriness. The ghost of what was. The gilded room seemed to sparkle with the memory of her presence, traces of her elegant beauty all over the grand auditorium. I trembled.Mama?
I stopped short of saying it aloud, but I could feel something here, like her essence that had been stripped away the night of the fire had remained, trapped in this massive echoing cavern where she’d once danced. Where they had once danced together. The quiet was intense, the room waiting to see what I’d do.
Nothing, as it turned out. That’s all I could do, even while my thoughts ran like wildfire.
A distanttock-tockechoed deep within the building and I shuddered. Normal night noises, of course. But then a door banged deep within. Thetock-tockbegan again and solidified into confident footfall. Fear spiked, and I swung and kicked, helpless up in the air. I flailed everywhere, tangling wires, ropes, and limbs in one sorry, hanging mess, desperate for escape.
Which is, of course, precisely when God chose to answer my earlier request.
My head snapped up, throbbing with the sudden redirection of blood. Tall and handsome, with arms folded over his chest,Philippe Rousseau strode up the aisle with a half grin on his solemn face. “Keen for hanging about, are we?”
Horrified, I dropped my head, hair curtaining my face, and groaned.
“Stay put, and I’ll get you down.” He took the steps in two leaps and ran behind the curtain. A few small jerks brought me lower in increments. Then when I was most of the way down, there was a metallicthunk, the ties went slack, and the stage rushed up to meet me.Oof.I landed on my side, hip smarting, cheek stinging, but I was down.
And Philippe was there.
4
Maymie Dobbs wasn’t one for keeping things in close. Not when secrets tasted so juicy on her lips. She pounded on a familiar bright red door in Belgravia only an hour after it happened, having tottered the entire way there by herself. Legs could carry one anywhere, and for free, after all. She liked free.
Face scrunching, she fisted her right hand and banged again. This time, a slender white face under a mobcap appeared in the narrow crack. Maymie squinted, forcing the face into focus, but she didn’t recognize it.
The girl’s voice was low when she spoke. Nervous. “What is it, then? You really shouldn’t be at this entrance, you know.”
