Considering how irritated she was with me earlier, it’s a bit surprising to have Genevieve come over and embrace me in a tight hug after the show, “You were wonderful, Charlotte!” The stress is visibly gone from her face and she has apparently taken some time to re-do her hair and tidy herself up a bit.
I smile softly and hug her back, “Thank you.”
“Were you nervous? I saw quite a few handsome young men eyeing you.” she asked, letting me go.
“Most-“
“And did you notice how intently Lord Cheney was watching you? He look practically enchanted!“ she interrupts.
“Gen, he’s ten years my senior. I don’t think-“
“But, I don’t think anyone was paying as close attention to you as-”
“Genevieve! Please! Just stop.“ she silences and I continue on, “It’s a little hot in here. I’ve been baking under those lights. I could really do with a glass of water, if you don’t mind.” she nods happily and leaves in haste to the kitchen. It was the only thing I could think of to get her leave. Genevieve and I have never been close; we don’t talk, we don’t look at one other, and there are times when we even go out of the way as to not come near one another. So, the sudden change in attitude does not amuse me and I’m sure she was only acting that way to get something from me.
For all it’s worth, though, I agree with her about my performance. Tonight was my first ever chance to be more than the little peasant girl, and I do believe that I pulled it off quite well. My lines seemed to just freely fall from my lips and I hit every note in the scenes where I am required to sing. I feel so giddy, with an urge to dance and pat myself on the back for a job well done. At the end of the show, I recall the moment when both Lord and Lady Cheney came up on stage and congratulated me. Lord Cheney stressed to me that this was quite a pleasant present for him, and his Lady complimented me on how marvelously I started off the show. I don’t think I’ve ever turned so pink in my life.
Looking back into the audience, to see if either of them had left already, I notice that all the seats are empty except for five. My mother, father, fiancé, and two other people, whom I cannot exactly point out, are all still here. My family chatters away as they wait for me to finish changing, which I have not done yet, and the other two individuals speak in whispers. I strain my eyes to make them out, but it is no use; they are turned away from me.
“Oh well.” I say to myself whilst making my way to my changing room., “I need to be getting ready to leave anyway.”
~*~*~
The night air is chilly and moist from the rain as we walk toward our carriage to go home. David wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me close, bringing a smile to my lips as I affectionately gaze up at him. He smirks down at me and speaks quietly so that I am the only one who can hear him, “You were gorgeous up there, as usual.”
He amuses me sometimes, with the way he can just speak whatever’s on his mind and not give a rat’s tail about how it may sound. I snort and playfully elbow him in the side, “You can be a real ass, you know that?”
“What?” he cries, a little louder this time with a tone of mock offense in his voice. He pulls me even closer and rests his cheek on the top of my head, “Can’t a man compliment his fiancée on how beautiful she is?”
“Oui, that’s flattering of you, Chéri, but you do it so often. You make me wonder, sometimes, if that is the only thing you have ever really noticed about me.”
“But, of course!”
I elbow him in the side again, but with the intention of actually hurting him this time, “David!”
“What are you two doing back there?” Mother enquires from ahead. She stops walking and turns around to give us a look, to scold us I presume, “I swear, you two are no better than children, at times.”
“But… but, Mère! He‘s being mean to me!”
“I am not.” David defends. He places me in front of him so that he can hug my middle from behind, “See? I love my Charlotte.”
“Slimy pig!” I lightly elbow his stomach enough to get an “Oof!” out of him and smile at my mother, “See? I love him too.”
Mother sighs and half-heartedly rolls her eyes at us, “Oy. What have we gotten ourselves into, Jacques?” she asks my father, who is walking beside her.
“We?” questions he, “What do you mean ‘we’? You were the one who thought they would be a match made in Heaven and tried everything in your power to get them together!”
She laughs at him, “But you were the one who agreed to the engagement, now weren’t you? I had nothing to do with that.”
“Blast you, woman.” he chortles, “I was suppose to win this round.”
From behind them, I ask quietly, “Who did she say the children were again?”
David chuckles and pecks the top of my head, “I agr-”
“No, wait!” I interrupt, “I’m suppose to be upset with you, remember? I refuse to talk to you.”
“And why is that?”
“You have offended me.” I jest.
“Care to elaborate for me?”
“Oh, you’ve forgotten so quickly, then? I recall you implying that you’ve never noticed anything else about me except for my beauty.” I unwrap his arms from around my stomach, but the sudden chill makes me want to jump right back into his arms again.
“I was only playing with you. You can’t have taken me seriously.” he says, “Of course I am aware of your many talents and skills… in the art of putting on makeup.”
I gasp and laugh at the same time, punching him in the shoulder, “I can’t believe you!” He laughs at my reaction and tries to defend himself by blocking me, but the blows just keep coming. The more I hit and yell at him, the more entertained he becomes, so I continue doing this until we reach the end of the road where our carriage awaits to take us home.
Standing there, a middle-aged man, finely dressed, waits for us. I finally stop punching David and he seizes his laughter; the man greets us merrily, “Bonsoir, everyone!”
We greet him in the same manner, a bit surprised to hear his English accent, unlike our French, before he continues, “My name is Christopher Bentley.” he pauses for a moment, waiting for us to say something, I guess. When we remain silent, he goes on, “I’m assuming that none of you have ever heard of me before, then. I am the head director of the Lost Harmony Theater.” he pauses again, and when we still remain silent, he proceeds, “in… London, England? We aren’t the most well known Performing Arts theater in the country, but you have to have at least heard just a little something about us?”
“I’m afraid not, Monsieur.” I reply.
“Quickly, what is your purpose? We must be on our way soon.” snaps David.
“Right. I wouldn’t want to waste the lady’s time.”
“What lady?” he questions.
“Why, Ms. Charlotte here, of course.” he smirks at me and David instinctively holds onto my waist again, pulling me toward him, “Oh, come now,” says Monsieur Bentley to David, “I don’t plan to do anything to her, I just wish to her offer her something.”
This time, it is I who speaks up, “Offer me what?”
He averts his attention back to me, “The possible chance to live like an heiress, my dear. We are a pretty top notch group, the Lost Harmony, and we pay the best of the best to the best of the best.”
“What are you trying to say, Monsieur?” By now, I’ve become anxious to hear more about what this man has to say.
“I’m saying, Ms. Charlotte, that the actors and actresses who perform in our plays are not just European, but there are people from all over the world. I go from country to country to watch the plays and performances that they put on, and if I spot an actor or actress that I like, I offer them the opportunity to join us. I thought you did a magnificent job tonight, Madame, and I was wondering if you might like the chance to come back with me to England and perform with us for possibly triple the pay.”
I don’t think I can describe how I feel about this and what thoughts are running through my head. Honored is not even close to being the right word, and neither is flattered. It would be exciting to go to Europe and explore my talents even further with them, not to mention that I could make a lot more money, but… what about my family? My friends?
“That sounds wonderful, Monsieur Bentley, but I don’t know. This is awfully sudden. What about my family, my friends? Not to mention, I am getting married in a few weeks. I’d really like to live here with my husband and raise a family; I was born in this very city myself, so it would be a little difficult to just pack up and leave my home just like that.”
He smiles warmly, “There is no pressure, Miss, it’s just an offer. I’ll allow you the chance to think and talk it over with your family and friends. I will be here for one month, but then I need to move on after that. When you’ve come up with a decision, you may write me a letter or just come on over to the small inn where I am staying; it’s just one block from here and the only one around.”
I nod, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” he tips his hat to us and we all wish him a good night before he walks a little further down the road to get into his own carriage and rides off into the night.
~*~*~
“I don’t know about this, Charlotte.” David tells me as we ride home, “That man just seemed a little strange to me.”
I smile against his chest and toy with a stray string that hangs from his collar, “You think that everyone is strange, darling.”
“Yes, but he is suspicious. Traveling for performers? I’ve never heard such nonsense in my life!” he huffs. I’m temporarily tossed from his arms when we hit a hole in the road. “I mean,” he continues, “I haven’t even heard of that Lost Harlot, Harmonica, whatever he called it!”
“Lost Harmony, Chéri, and just because you are ignorant of something does not mean it has no existence.” I retort, snuggling back into his chest.
He huffs at the idea, now suddenly insisting that Christopher wanted nothing more than to get under my skirts; I glare at him for being so daft and get ready to get out, for we have pulled into the front gate of a beautiful brick house with a walkway bordered in greenery: my home. We get out and David holds my hand as we walk to the door. I can hardly see in this darkness, thus I cannot watch where I’m going. I stumble twice, and I’m quite grateful to have him holding onto me, before we make it to the door.
“Would you like to come in, David?” Mother asks, “Have a quick drink before you leave?”
“Any other time, I would be delighted to indulge myself in such pleasures, Madame, but I really must be off.” he insists. She nods understandingly and follows Father into the house. I stay out for a moment, long enough to allow David to kiss my hand and wish me a good night before he finally makes his leave and rides home into the fog.
But, as I stand here all alone, waiting for the sound of beating horse hooves to vanish, it occurs to me or more than before that I have a decision to make. Mother and Father are getting no younger and could really use the money for when they become elderly. But, judging by how David reacted to the situation, he isn’t too fond of the idea that I should go. My current career pays enough for us to get by, seeing as how both of my parents are not eligible to work due to their own personal health issues, but I want to do more than just get by.
I want to drink the expensive champagnes that send my mind reeling. I want to wear the fancy gowns and show them off at the balls. But, most of all, what I want the most is to have the chance to go up to anyone and say, “I am an heiress.”
But at what costs?
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I had difficulties with the line before the last and think that there is someway that I could have made it better. What do you think?
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