A/N: Forgive me for the delay, and thank you all. This chapter is dedicated to Katherine. One of the best and most talented authors, as well as one of the best friends anyone could have.
Title: The Red Shoes
Chapter: 2 - The Neglected Ballerina
She was, in fact, the profound picture of perfection. Her face was porcelain, adorned with eyes like the deep sea. Today, they shone with gloom in them, causing a mystic of sadness around her. Her name was Francoise Arnoul. She lived with her aunt in Paris, France since the tragic death of her parents. Her relationship with her aunt didn't reach beyond the barrier of formal affairs and family commitment. Francoise was merely a china doll, who was born to be dressed up and shown off. Her golden locks hung airily above her slender shoulders. Red lipstick smeared her lips and white powder covered her rosy cheeks. Francoise wanted to run and wash her face, but she knew she could not. No matter what her affection with her aunt was it would never change the fact that she had taken her in, at her time of need. Francoise sighed as she applied more makeup to her fragile face. She heard a loud knock at the door, startling her so, making her drop the powder unto the floor. The white cream like substance lay flatly upon the floor, standing out against the marble floor. "Just a minute, oh forget it. How am I supposed to clean this up without her noticing anyway?" Francoise said as she stepped as far from the powder as possible. The door opened rapidly and there stood her assigned Irish maid, Maureen. "Why dear, what mess this is! Good you're standing faraway, wouldn't want that brand new dress spoiled, now would we. Lady Clarice is waiting for you, Lady Francoise. Francoise smiled sheepishly at the maid thanking her silently, thanking god that it was not her aunt at the door. "Oh and one more thing, Lady Clarice says she has a surprise for you. Don't dawdle, hurry up, and hurry up!" The maid ushered Francoise outside to the starring eyes of the guests. They were gasps of delights and whispers. Francoise had learned to ignore such foolish commentary; and walked on to her Aunt Clarice Neston.
She had previously come from a show featuring the ballet company of Boris Lermontov and was exhausted. She wasn't tired from the day, but from clapping at the magnificent performance. As she walked, she caught a glimpse of a tailed coat that had the initials B.L. embroiled unto the front pocket in a golden thread. Francoise wondered whether it could be possible that, indeed the great Boris Lermontov was at her aunts festivities. She rushed to her aunt, now, noticing that she had stopped in the middle of the room and was starring. Her aunt rushed to her in a flushed manner, her hands roughly pulling her aside. "Francoise dear, Boris Lermontov is here and I've arranged for him to see you dance." Francoise felt numb for a moment, numb with shock. She mouthed the word; what, and then her eyes lit up. "Is this you're surprise, aunt?" Lady Neston nodded thoroughly and pointed at a man who Francoise recognized from the many magazines and newspapers that she had read. "There he is, Boris Lermontov, go on!" Like the maid had done before her, Lady Neston ushered Francoise to Lermontov.
Francoise didn't know what to do, she felt embarrassed and at the same time nervous. She sat beside Lermontov and said casually; "I'm so glad that you came to my aunt's celebration." Lermontov nodded and replied as casually as Francoise had spoken; "Yes, I just pity the young girl that has to dance tonight, she must be a horror."
Francoise was angry beyond description and she replied hotly; "I am that horror!" Lermontov did not flinch the least bit, instead his replied as coolly as ever. "Well then miss; I beg your pardon for my rude commentary. Unfortunately, I must make my leave now. Please inform you're aunt miss."
"What about my performance?" Francoise said in shock. "Your right, you can come and see me at the grand theater tomorrow." Lermontov handed Francoise a piece of paper and let her in complete shock.
Lermontov sighed as he slid into the car that would deliver him home. "Miss Arnoul seemed quite annoyed with your commentary." Lermontov nodded at his right hand man and then spoke; "You're quite right, Gilmore. This is why I invited the poor girl to dance at the theater tomorrow. I doubt that she has any talent at all, but let's give it a try. We wouldn't want to offend her aunt, after all she is once of the richest, a most friendly host in this town. We wouldn't want to make her angry, now would we?"
Issah Gilmore nodded and drove on. "Gilmore, when we get to the inn, please phone Mr. Shimamura, I want him to compose the musical that I planning along. I could also use him to play for Miss. Arnoul. I want to see his talent as soon as possible. Gilmore nodded and replied in a monotone voice; "Yes sir, Mr. Shimamura will be informed at once."