Dancing On Air (32 page)

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.’