CHAPTER SEVEN: "The Audition"

CHAPTER SEVEN: "The Audition"

TIME LINE: THE NIGHT BEFORE THE AUDITION; JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT. AN APPARTMENT SHARED BY SOME LE MIRAGE STUDENTS.

Gloria served two glasses of hot milk and put some fruit and cheese on the kitchen table. Then, there was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Gloria peeled an apple for her friend and both girls began eating silently. It was Ayleen who finally dared break the silence in the kitchen.

"What are we going to do, Gloria?", she asked softly, "I mean… with what Evelyn told us…"

"I honestly don´t know", she responded, sighing, "Evelyn was right, Ayleen. I just hope he won´t try to enter the school during the audition", she added, frowning at Ayleen, "he could ruin it all."

"But there might be something we could do, Gloria", Ayleen responded, "perhaps if we tell Daniel, or Dick, they could watch out for Madame Ivy." She stopped talking for an instant, and then added emphatically, "We haveto do something for her, Gloria, it´s our duty. I have known Madame Ivy for nearly three years now, and I owe her a lot of things, like most of us. Honestly, Gloria, I do not mind why she left her husband, she does not have an indecent reputation, all Paris know this! Her marriage is not my business, she might have had her own reasons, and I do admire her for what she did."

"Yes, I know, dear, but Evelyn is right", Gloria replied, placing a hand on her friend´s shoulder. "Neither of us cares a bit… but what about the rest? The parents, the tutors, possible patrons, or people from the high class… Le Mirage is a public institution, Ayleen, and Madame Ivy has a name in Paris, a reputation to take care of. Do you think Cory´s parents, or Daniel´s family will ever understand that? Just imagine Nadine Passarino asking for an explanation! A quarrel between Madame and her husband would be a scandal for all Paris talk about!"

SAME TIME. MUSIC ROOM AT LE MIRAGE.

It was impossible. Ivy sighed as she drank the last sip from her tea. After a day like hers, anyone else in the world would have slept peacefully. But Ivy couldn´t. She rolled over again in her bed. It was not as comfortable as her huge bedroom in La Madeleine. But she could not spend the night in her apartment. Not tonight. If she were bound not to sleep, she needed to have her things near. To feel she was home; not alone.

She got up and lit up a candle. For a moment, Ivy stared at her own image on the other side of the mirror. 'You´ll get ill if you can´t stop it…', she thought painfully, watching at the lines under her eyes. Ill and old. She felt older than her age. Old at thirty two. Withering like a flower when spring is over. She suddenly thought about her dead mother. When she was her age, she already had a child, and a happy marriage. Ivy did not have any of those things. She would have loved to have a child like her mother, a little red haired girl who loved music above all things, who enjoyed gardening and watching ballets. Her own child. Blood from her blood. But that was not possible.

She suddenly realised she had spent the whole day missing her closest, missing her parents, and her friends. Missing Wills. He was not there to make her laugh, to give her strength and faith. She had missed his wise words, his generous friendship… he would have known what to do about the dammed letter. But Ivy could not do it alone, and she only had three days left to make up her mind. And an audition which was almost exhausting her.

Ivy went back to bed after listing all the things she had to do the day after and decided to read. She opened the drawer of her night table and took out a book. Wills had given it to her during the brothers´last visit to the school. Ivy could not stop from smiling at what her friend had written on the first page…

'I made myself sure you have a book boring enough to make you wish having me there, wherever you are now. The greatest love for the greatest stage sister: William."

She laid her fingers through his handwriting, sighed again and opened the book in the first page…

The tale of Horribly good Bertha, by William Murphy

"Once upon a time, not a long ago, there was a little girl called Bertha. She was always well behaved and worked hard at school to please her parents and her teachers. She was never late, never dirty or untidy, never rude, and she never told lies. Bertha was not very pretty. She was just terribly good. Bertha was so good that she had three medals. One said 'Never late', other read 'Always polite' and the third said 'The best child in the world'.

One fine day, Bertha was invited by the king of the country to his palace. So she put on her best clean dress, she pinned her three medals to the front and she walked through the woods to the king´s palace. But in the woods there lived a big hungry wolf. He saw Bertha´s lovely white dress through the trees and he heard her medals tickling together as she walked. 'Aha!', thought the wolf, 'Lunch!' and he started to move quickly but quietly through the trees towards Bertha.

Bertha tried to run away but she couldn´t run fast because the medals were very heavy. The wolf caught her easily and he ate everything, every little bit of the girl… except the three medals…"

It was nearly sunrise. As Ivy closed the book and wrapped herself in the blankets. She thought she was that girl. And she would be eaten by her own wolf if she did not stop hurting…

SEPTEMBER 1776. THE MURPHYS BROTHERS SCHOOL, AUDITION ROOM

"Ivy, please! ", he insisted, "I am just asking for five minutes of your time, no more than five minutes!"

"Oh, Wills…!"

"But Miss Rondón is already waiting, dear!", he tried another time, "And you are the only one here who can speak a little Spanish, Ivy. I just can smile and say 'Si, si…', but I can´t understand a further word! "

Ivy doubted it. She did not like the idea of facing this new artist at all. She would have preferred to stay alone at home, but both the Brothers had felt this was being a difficult day for Ivy and had 'conspired' not to leave her alone. First, David had invited her dancing tonight, and now Wills and his idea of having her auditioning Conchita Rondón, the new copla singer the brothers were about to hire for a tour around Spain. All for today; her saddest day of all by far. For today, a year ago, she ran away from Foxes Manor. And she did not want the slightest thing to make her think of him.

But she could not tell Wills, nor David. She could not tell the Brothers why she had left her old life to be a member of their company. She was afraid of what they could think of her. She was frightened that she could hurt them. It was some time since Ivy had learnt about Wills' unusual nature and, although she had admired his sincerity and straightforwardness, Ivy had understood she could never tell Wills she had lived for five years with a man like the Baron of Letissieur; no, if she did not want to break her teacher´s trust.

"Alright, Wills you win…"

"SI!!", the nice man laughed out loud and hugged her, "Oh Ivy, sweet, I owe you my life!"

In the other room, a pretty dark haired lady, dressed with a beautiful red bata de cola waited with Ramiro Olveiros. None of them could spoke a word in English, and Conchita was mortified. They had travelled very far to get to an agreement with the Murphys and she had rehearsed her copla until it worked perfect. Conchita would have preferred indeed to sing another song, perhaps the famous one telling the tragic romance between young and recently passed away Queen Mercedes de Montpasier and King Alfonso, but Ramiro had insisted. 'Son ingleses, y actores', they had told her wisely, appealing to the common English character, so typically cold and tied to the Spanish stereotype of toreros, gipsies and flamenco dancers, ' dales lo que quieren ver, mi morena…' Give them what they want to see, that Conchita would do. But without suspecting she would hurt deeply the lady who was going to audition her.

"Mr Olveiros, Miss Rondón!", Wills greeted the couple as he and Ivy entered the audition room, "I´m here with the translator I promised…"

"Señora, caballero… buenas tardes", Ivy curtsied politely her respects, "mi nombre es Ivy Depreaux, encantada de conocerles. Podemos empezar la audición cuando quieran."

Ivy found it very strange to speak in Spanish, after such a long time. She was not comfortable, but carefully she tried to hide the many unpleasant memories which were haunting her. Wills, guessing she was telling the couple they could start with Conchita´s audition, took his seat at the piano. Ivy sighed, as she heard the first chords of a copla and the words in Spanish entered her mind, hurting like sharp knives… long ago, she had also made that plea to Adrian. And he had never answered.

'If you wanted me to walk barefooted to beg in the streets,

to beg in the streets I would walk barefooted;

if you wanted me to cut my veins,

a blood stream would splash on me.

If you wanted me to throw myself to the fire,

I would consume like wood;

because I´m your slave and you the almighty owner

of my body, my soul and my life,

and in return for this, which is very little,

hear what I want to ask you myself:

Tell me that you love me, tell it to me, for God´s sake!

even if you´re lying, even if you don´t feel it,

but please tell me so.

Tell me in a whisper,

it would be easier for you to tell me this way,

and your 'I love you' will be for my sorrow

like April rain for a dry land.

Be merciful with my heart…

Tell me that you love me, tell me that you love me,

tell it to me, for God´s sake…

If your almond eyes did not look at me anymore,

the pulse in my temples would stop;

if your wheat lips did not kiss me anymore,

the flower in my mouth would fade away.

If your sun tanned arms did not hold me anymore,

mine would be forever empty;

and if you ever told me you love me anymore,

My, I don´t know what I could do!

because I only live because of you

you who give me death, or make me live…

Tell me that you love me, tell it to me, for God´s sake!

even if you´re lying, even if you don´t feel it,

but please tell me so.

Tell me in a whisper,

it would be easier for you to tell me this way,

and your 'I love you' will be for my sorrow

like April rain for a dry land.

Be merciful with my heart…

Tell me that you love me, tell me that you love me,

tell it to me, for God´s sake…'

Ivy tried hard to hide her emotions while Conchita sang, for she could well identify with what the copla asked for through the lady´s powerful, emotional voice. Adrian had never shown her that he loved her, there would never be a man who told her so. Only in her dreams, there was one heart who understood. And she found out that moment, this man´s face was blurred. He only lived in her dreams.

FOUR HOURS LATER. A DANCING PAVILLION IN BATTERSEA PARK, LONDON.

The night was very nice indeed, with a full moon shining over the lake in those gardens and a thousand stars twinkling above them, many couples had joined the Annual Ball Dancing Festival, where David Murphy had taken Ivy. His brother had suggested so during breakfast, teasing him endlessly; tonight would be devoted to waltzes and Ivy loved them, so it would be perfect for David to take their friend there, for a dancing night. Everything was running very smoothly, the orchestra were playing beautifully and Ivy seemed to be enjoying, she had not denied any dance to the many gentlemen who were willing to dance with her. David had been observing her, after encouraging Ivy to dance with others. That way, waltzing around, her friend was even more lovely and enchanting. Wills was right; 'Ivy was born to dance', he always remarked, 'she feels complete this way…' Yes, it was true, David thought, as he saw how the last waltz ended and Ivy curtsied to her dancing partner, returning to the table when he waited; he had never seen her more alive and he could well agree with anyone who told Ivy was indeed the most beautiful lady in the dance floor. The young handsome man stood up to greet her, as the musicians started another tune.

"Will you honour me, Ivy?", he smiled brightly at the lady before him

Ivy just nodded. She was about to tell David she wished to go home, but she found out she could not deny him another dance; it wouldn´t be fair, for she had waltzed with many of the other gentlemen in the pavilion and she could not make an exception with David. Ivy was tired, the day had been very hard for her. But only dancing would she wash away, at least for a while, the persistent sadness which had haunted her since the early afternoon, when she interviewed and auditioned Conchita Rondón. She had tried hard to dance away the sorrow that copla singer had set up in her heart accepting dances with men who approached her. Many knew her reputation as a performer with the Murphy´s and wished to meet a famous star, others had just been drawn to her to take the chance and try their charms, it was not first time for her. But no one had ever crossed the line. They were just blank faces, only empty waltzes… it was not as she had dreamt it would be. She still danced alone and it would always be the same.

David began dancing their last waltz, as he let Ivy lead them into the steps. He was not a bad waltzer, at least not as bad as Wills, but every time he and Ivy shared a dance, he could not help but letting her be the dominant partner. He loved to see her dancing from a distance, even when they shared a tune together, and not for the first time he wondered why it had to be so, why Ivy showed herself so yet frightened when she was in the company of a man. She was a great friend, and an understanding lady, but David had began to think she had a heart of stone, though he had never dared to speak his feelings for her out loud. Ivy´s blue glassy eyes were gentle and kind, she had showed clearly she enjoyed his company, but never had she allowed him further approaching. Not a touch, not the slightest word of intimacy between them. Everybody in the company thought there was something deeper than friendship between them. But it wasn´t true, he had confessed to Wills. There was something which still kept Ivy away from him and from any other man.

He was haunted by that same old feeling this time, as he twirled around the dance floor with Ivy. Many of the dancing couples were waving their good byes, the night at the dancing pavilion was quickly ending. But Ivy seemed she could be waltzing forever, though there was a strange glow in her blue glassy eyes. As if she had been waiting for something to happen. As if she had always been so.

He looked down to her as they danced, into her blue glassy eyes, as deep as the deepest sea. And there was something which he saw, something which defined the glow of attractiveness he had been filled by, the first time Wills introduced them. She was lovely, so very lovely and fragile, so very magical when she danced…

The waltz was ending but it was not that which broke Ivy´s heart. It was another thing. It was to realise she did not want this to happen…

"Ivy…", David whispered against her ear, as soft as a spring breeze

David had tried this to be a perfect moment, she felt, but it wasn´t. There will never be a perfect moment for her. It was a waste. She should have seen it before, she should have known… now, how could she ever tell him she did love him but not the same way? How could she ever explain she could love no one?

Stop it, Ivy.

Don´t let him do this.

Stop it. Or you will hurt him. You will hurt yourself once more.

"Ivy…", he lifted her face with a gentle finger under her chin,"Ivy, there´s something I have been meaning to ask you…"

His face was inches far from her lips. Ivy shivered in fear. NO. Don´t ask me. Please, don´t tell me. Don´t speak; I know what you´re trying to say. Don´t tell me, because it hurts.

"You and me, Ivy… we have been together since we met. Does it mean something to you, Ivy?", David asked as they stopped dancing.

"Yes,", she whispered back, as she managed to give David a shy smile, "yes David, it means very much to me. You and Wills have taught me to live", she told him sincerely, "you have grown inviting memories in me and I could do anything for any of you… but no, Dave, my answer is no."

"Ivy, you didn´t know what I was about to…"

Suddenly, David Murphy felt the most stupid man on earth. He was fooling it all. He was losing her! How could he have been so brainless, so foolish…! But Ivy, his lovely ever caring Ivy, smiled at him again, and put a tiny finger in his mouth.

"Sssshhh… Hush, don´t say a word, David; stop explaining, please", she stood silent for a second and sighed. Ivy tried to choose her next words very carefully, there was no need to be cruel. "I know what lies in your question. David you are a great man, I don´t want to hurt you…"

"How could you ever?", he opened his eyes wide, unable to believe what he was hearing, "Ivy, please, tell me, what is wrong? What have I done to spoil it all?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all! You haven´t ruined anything because there is nothing to ruin…"

"I feel stupid", he confessed, "I should have never told you…"

"No, please, no", she responded, "it´s only natural, it is NOT you, but me, don´t you see? God knows I´ve tried to love you other way, David, but I couldn´t. David, I appreciate how you feel about me but I can´t love you the way you deserve, I can´t love anyone at all…"

1880,SOMEWHERE ELSE IN PARIS, THE SAME MORNING. A LUXURIOUS BROTHEL CALLED 'CAPRICE'.

The red haired mistress at the brothel had all her women gathered in the ladies´ private room at 'Caprice', as usual. It was always the same instructions before another pleasure night started. Do observe the rules –no private data given or asked, all tips accepted except cash, please your client and careful with forthcoming babies and uncomfortable infections. That was a good way to run a pleasure house like that, where only the ones who could pay for her courtesans were accepted. High class and wealthy men nearly crowded the place every night, for saunas, massages, and any kind of fantasy they could imagine. Everything could be possible at 'Caprice'. After all, it was all business…

Of course Livia was not her real name, very few had the privilege of calling her Mireille. It was a perfect cover, for the place had been a thermal house in Roman times, she had been told, and the courtesans used similar addressings. And she really admired Livia Augusta; one of the most powerful, manipulative and influent women in the whole ancient Roman Empire. She and perhaps Mesalina, but she did not like that name. 'Livia' sounded more imposing, royal like, it inspired class and respect. And nobody had style in her profession. But Livia had, for she understood she was paying a public service, she was taking care of men´s health that way and helping the women she had employed too, for they would have ended swallowed up by the worst of Paris underworld. You cannot stop all rapings and abuses to the rest, you cannot stop poor women from working the streets by night, exposed to terrible weather or backstreet gangs, but she had made of pleasure an art. The art of the possible. She took care of her women, fed and protected them, due to her influences, and for just a little amount of what they earned in return.

"Now then", she began, "we have fifteen clients for tonight. Patricia, you will have room three as usual, but Julia and Lidia will move to the sauna", she heard the girls giggling and went on, "yes, we have the Marquis today for a massage, so I expect you to do as good as his first time, girls. Antonia, yours is room ten today with Ms Rouge, and next door you, Sabina…", she finished, her blue eyes gazing to a very tall girl in man´s clothes.

"And what about me, madam?", a young blonde beauty asked

"You´re not on duty today, Claudia, I´ll take your place with the new man", Livia answered, "our client has asked for a red haired lady", she went on as Claudia nodded, "and paid three dates in advance", yes, it had been a good move that she hadn´t hired any reddish haired courtesan up to then, for that way Livia could sell her charms even more expensively. The man had paid extremely well, she thought, smiling to herself and touching one of the jewels in her necklace, "so you´re in charge of drinks and payments tonight."

"Yes madam…"

As graceful as a ballerina, Livia stood up and left the room to prepare herself for the new arrival. The English client.

1880, A HOTEL NEAR THE LOUVRE GARDENS. STILL THE SAME MORNING.

It was a beautiful afternoon in Paris. The woman stared at the sight of the Louvre Gardens, and alternatively spared another look to the cradle, where the baby was sleeping peacefully. So very beautiful, their child, she thought, and even more when she was sleeping. However, she was tempted sometimes to wake little Marina up and see blue glassy eyes wide open, curiously at the new world she was just discovering, hear her giggling, always trying to touch her face, unafraid.

'She thinks her mamma's beautiful, my love', Christian always told her, 'just like me…' Sometimes she simply smiled at the man before her, thankful. But others she felt Christian was lying, though she had never told him.

Twelve years had passed since Christian found her lying on the river bend. He immediately knew she wasn´t dead, with just one look at her face covered with blood. That good man cured her wounds, and took care of her, without asking what had happened. But, somehow, she had always known she would have to tell him, someday… when she felt strong enough to look at her face in the mirror. And face what she was now. She had done it weeks ago. And Christian had urged her to come to Paris.

She had been beautiful, once, when she was seventeen. Now she was nearly twenty years older, but she still remembered. He had sent white roses, everyday, to her house, and courted her insistently with alluring and overwhelming words. But she didn´t like him, she did not like the way he looked, the obsessed glints in his eyes. And she had answered no to his marriage proposal. Then, he vanished. But they did not know he had been observing her, watching her movements… waiting. Spying from the shadows.

Christian opened the door of the room and entered silently, not to wake up the sleeping baby girl in the cradle.

"Everything is fixed", he told her, handling the passages, "the ship leaves tomorrow morning, at dawn…"

She smiled, as she always did when he looked at her that way. Christian was right. America was a good place. They could start a new life there, in a farm, away from the rest of the world. Where no one knew them. Where she had to see no one but her husband and the daughter they had. Not wearing wigs or veils anymore. Not hiding her face behind a mask.

Christian smiled compassionately. She was hurting terribly. But at least when they were alone, she did not wear that mask. The man took his wife´s hands, and kissed them lovingly.

He stopped talking to caress her face, not the sound sight . But the burnt one. He always did that.

"What is it, Satine?", Her hand hurried for the mask, but he stopped her gently, yet firmly."No", the man cut her off, "you promised…"

Satine lowered her eyes.

"It´s her… I am worried Christian. She does not know…"

1880 THE MORNING OF THE AUDITION. 8:30 A.M. STUDENTS' COMMON ROOM AT LE MIRAGE

It was nearly half past six and the school was unusually full of people. Pierre looked anxiously at his watch and then through the window of the students common room.. Another look he paid through the window pane. Louis was rushing his way to Le Mirage in his bicycle, crossing now the marble path. Well, for once in his life, the pianist would not make people wait.

Ayleen was sitting between Gloria and Daniel, also lost in thought, her hand wrapped and covered with a white globe. The two ballerinas had a serious look on their faces, 'too serious', Daniel thought, sweeping his eyes from one to another. Yet, the dark haired dancer had a satisfied look on his face. But Ayleen had behaved strangely about the forthcoming students meeting. She was worried, concerned, he could see, but she hadn´t said a word when he asked. What was all this thing about?

Veronique was biting her nails impatiently, waiting for Evelyn to come. Louis had bumped into the room and she had silently warned him not to start a quarrel again with Paulette. The writer had only mouthed a quiet 'hello' and took a seat on Vero´s right.

Dick surveyed the others´faces. Everyone looked worried or unwilling to speak. Today´s audition was important, yes, but not that much to be like this. However, the actor smiled approvingly. Tension was good before a performance. They would rock the audience, he thought, they would make Madame proud of them... 'You are prepared to make your choice, Richard', the teacher had told him early that morning, 'you can leave Le Mirage'; there´s nothing more I can teach you...' He had sensed a slight sad tone in her voice, Dick realised. But she was right. He could fly on his own to America, to join 'The Highlights' company...

Louis was the last student to have a look at the envelope Evelyn had taken with her.

"What is it?", the writer asked as he saw the wedding invitation, to no one, to anyone, "who has started the joke?"

"It is no joke, Louis", Veronique responded calmly, looking to Evelyn, "Just listen to her…"

Then, the young writer paid another look to the card, addressed to his classmate and her husband Etien, puzzled. He read the text again, dated in 1869 and carefully printed in blue ink…

It is much pleasure for our families

To announce the engagement and forthcoming wedding

Of Mdlle Eve Marie Silvie,

only daughter of François and Eve Isabelle Depreaux,

And Ms Adrian Joseph,

oldest son of widowed Baroness Helen Louise de Letissieur.

The civil marriage will take place next June 18th at the London Royal Court, half past eleven.

Your confirmation is kindly required

Louis could hardly hear Evelyn´s voice speaking aloud their teacher´s story. A sad story about a young girl who had dreams about being a ballet dancer from her early childhood, a girl who once met an English gentleman during a performance in the Garnier Opera House, nearly ten years ago. He could imagine her, in that same house, getting ready for another date with a certain nobleman, so excited because, that night, she suspected she would be asked to marry the one she loved most. Love. Madame Ivy had had a love once. She had loved him so much that she had left her studies at the Ballet Liceum, she had gone as far as rejecting her own dreams to please his fianceè´s expectations and leave her family to travel to live to somewhere in the far and away England.

Louis could almost read the letters she wrote to her parents every week as Evelyn narrated the story. Those letters which spoke of a forthcoming happiness… soon, so soon, she would announce the so long expected pregnancy to give an heir to the Letissieur family. As Evelyn went on, six years passed; no one in Paris saw the girl who had ballet dreams again, not even when her father died, not until her mother got seriously ill and she travelled back to assist her in the last hours. Evelyn could not hide the concern in her voice when she described the day of Madame´s mother´s burial. Their teacher was pale, skinny, she seemed drained of all energy, 'as if she had lost everything in the world', Evelyn said, looking around, 'and her husband, the Baron, had not travelled with her as it should have been'. There were no more stage dreams, no endless love, no children and no loving husband. There was nothing.

Some of the students thought Evelyn Rouge was only telling a story, it wasn´t Madame Ivy the woman she was speaking about, it was only a plot from any unknown play. But no. It was no plot. It was simply the plain truth. No one interrupted Evelyn up to the end of her story, but then, before anyone could utter a single word, Gloria started a second act. When the English ballerina entered the Murphy´s Brothers academy in London, Ivy Depreaux was already a leading star in the company. She was an excellent dancer, a talented actress and quite an accomplished soprano, and she had even begun composing. Unlike Evelyn, Gloria remembered Madame Ivy as a very nice woman, charming, sensitive and quite strong willed. Gloria had seen her there teaching ballet in the very early morning hours, learning fencing in the afternoon and performing every single night on stage, always smiling, never complaining, always ready to learn new things. It had been she who had got Sir David and lady Grace together, she who organised their wedding party and took Lady Grace´s place in the school during the honeymoon and her following pregnancy, until the twins were born. She, together with Sir William, had organised the first tour of the company around Ireland, and there, she had met and danced with Julian Atwood, Daniel´s father.

"I can´t see the point of this", Pierre interrupted then, "I´m sorry, Gloria, but I have heard Sir William telling this story a thousand times…"

"I know, Pierre, dear", she responded, "but there are many things Sir William does not know. Part of the Murphy´s Brother travelled to Spain after Ireland; Sir David, his wife and Madame Ivy remained in London to prepare a new production. And it was then, during the premiere, that Madame´s husband appeared again"

No one dared to say a word. They had been told the girls had seen the Baron at the Opera cafe'… What if he did it again, passing by the school on Friday?

"It seemed Madame´s performance hurt the man in some way, for they had an awful quarrel after the number.", Gloria went on, emphatically, "The Letissieur family reported our company to the Censorship Office, and we had to pay an exorbitant fee to prevent the theatre to be closed."

"No, no, wait a minute, Gloria", Daniel stopped her then, "now you don´t mean this… sort of a man has come to Paris to do the same… to ruin our audition? This is ridiculous! What profit would he gain if he does so? "

"It is not a profit, Daniel", Ayleen spoke firmly for the first time, "think of it: even if he only wants to see her, for she would not simply smile and bid him welcome to Le Mirage…Perhaps you don´t understand, gentlemen, what a woman´s heart can feel when you men take it for granted. "

"But this is not the only important thing, in my opinion", Veronique added softly, "I mean, I appreciate Madame, as much as the rest of you. But what if something happens? What if this…", she could not find the exact word to define the Baron, without using an unlady like term, "comes again and forms her a scandal? Are we ready to take that risk? Will we let him hurt her again?"

There was a moment of timeless silence in the students´ common room. Not a single student dared to break it. They were her family, they knew, her children, the only thing she had to lean on to… and she had always been there, training them, encouraging their steps and moulding their talents. They could not let her down…

Louis was the first to raise his hand after Evelyn's suggestion. But he was quickly followed by the rest. Even ever-giggling Pierre, who never took anything seriously, had a serious and determined expression on his face when they finally reached the agreement.

THE DAY OF THE AUDITION. JUST AFTER THE SCHOOL WALTZ NUMBER.

All too soon, the magic of the School Waltz ended and Tony bowed genteelly to his partner, taking her hand and guiding her off of the dance floor. It would not be fair to keep her from her duties as a hostess though, deep inside, he would have wanted to have her in his arms for an eternity.

"Thank you, Ivy. I hope that you will spare at least one more dance with me, before we are through?" His eyes looked at her questioningly, silently waiting for her answer.

This question took her by surprise. Under other circumstances, Ivy would have kindly declined, but something she could not define told her this was different. She was not scared, she did not want to run and hide… she felt completely free to take the chance and enjoy. After all, she was still safe in her school, where nobody could hurt her, where she was completely in charge of her emotions.

Of all of them.

"Yes, of course, Tony", the dance they shared had left a beautiful trace of happiness in the smile she offered to the conductor, "we still have something more to offer my students: an audition together"

Yes, a number together, he had not forgotten. Tony was normally very reserved with the music he composed, working on the score endlessly until he was completely sure the piece was ready to see the light, to be shared with others. But he had realised this time was different. Wills' words had encouraged him to choose that extremely personal composition for the occasion, but also, he wanted to see her dance. He wanted to test whether that exceptional lady was what he could barely see by the way she moved, the look in her eyes. She was too sad to be so beautiful; she had confessed him she felt too lonely. And he somehow wanted to make her alive.

"How could I not remember?", he dedicated her another charming smile, "I was waiting for your words to start…"

And, as gently as he had done moments before, Tony took Ivy´s hand, guiding her to the centre of the stage room and before she could utter another sound, he called the students again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention once more, please", the conductor waited until the chatters ended and, too strangely without releasing Ivy´s hand, he introduced the number, "when I was offered the opportunity to join you all in this audition, I did not expect for a moment to have such a warm welcome on your part, and this I must thank you and your School Mistress. Now it is time to fulfill one request Madame Ivy made to me when she greeted me to Le Mirage. It is my pleasure to present to you a humble contribution to this wonderful class, with my latest composition: the Maid in The Water, and Madame Ivy herself dancing for all of us…"

The ovation they received was simply indescribable, so warm and full of affection that it made Ivy blush furiously. Wills smiled from his seat. That was marvellous, simply beyond words. He saw her on stage, after so much time, curtsying to an audience she knew so well, and under the notes of an admired musician. Nothing could go wrong this time.

Ivy waited patiently until the conductor took a seat by the piano. She was extraordinarily calmed and relaxed, her body and her mind ready to receive a piece of that unique music, that one she had been admiring for so long in the distance. And, when he first touched the piano, giving her an introductory chord, she felt it again.

The magic of dance, the wonderful warmth of music. In a second, Ivy was transported to a new place, somewhere where dreams could be true, where things could be different. She could feel it in her veins. The water, the breeze. The ocean. In a second, her body floated in the water, away of all harm, full of energy. She was once more young, she was again that girl who once had ballet dreams, who once believed everything was possible. With each moment, with every pirouette and movement, she was brought to life, she was driven to the place the conductor had dreamt of. A wonderful beach she had walked once, under the light of a full moon, alone and sad that time. But now, she would not be lonely anymore…

She was, for some instants, a Maid in the Water.

-END OF CHAPTER SEVEN- (more soon)