The dancers broke apart, only after a prolonged kiss. Sirene left to charm all who came to see her. Almost every male in the room rushed to greet her, and she smiled coyly and flirted shamelessly with all from the youngest camera technician to the old mayor the small town. She met the rush of people without any difficulty, easily ignoring the glares from wives of those entranced by her beauty. Let them glare. Sirene was having fun.
Jesse fielded questions with no effort, giving little background about his companion. All knew that she was the fiancée he had hinted at in an earlier interview, but not one was foolish enough to ask just yet if she was the one. He would make his announcement when he was ready, and any reporter to violate the protocol would be thrown out and not invited back. That would not make an editor pleased in any way.
Maddie actually stopped him mid-sentence when the last of the reporters had a few questions. She insisted that it was time for the dancer, one that had agreed to grace the occasion with her skills. That interested him. No one had spoken of hiring a dancer, and he had seen no one enter. That could be because they planned it without his help, only asking for his preference in foods. It was his birthday, after all.
"Who is it?" He was curious. It was likely someone famous. Maddie would never ask anyone that was short of perfect. From what he heard, Lily had arranged the affair, but that didn't seem right. How would a maid know to create such grandeur? He made his own explanations, bending facts to fit.
"Lille." Maddie's tone was firm.
"Lily?" What on earth could she mean? "Lily's no dancer."
"How would you know?" Maddie sounded angry, as mad as she had been the day he had ejected Lily from his room. He hadn't seen the maid in awhile. He decided that she was avoiding him. Well, that was her loss.
"I just do," he answered, with the confidence that was a celebrity's son. "She would have shown me."
"Would she?" Maddie no longer sounded angry. Her voice was deceptively calm. "Go and ask her to dance. You have to do it. She won't unless you think she should, as it's your birthday." She continued at his skeptical look. "Do it. You won't regret it. She's behind the roses." Maddie turned on her sensibly low heel and left him to think.
He had nothing to lose. He answered a last few questions, thoughts distracted. He still managed a charming smile and responses with just the right amount of wit. Not too scathing, not too dull- that was how to do it. He had been taught the correct way since before he could even talk.
"Lily." He felt hesitant, even cautious, after approaching her when the reporters were reluctantly satisfied.. He could not begin to describe the feeling as shy. He was not shy. He was outgoing, and could do anything he set his mind to. He was the son of a movie star.
She had watched him approach, and had not missed encouragement from Maddie. What did he want? She was perfectly content in her corner, or so she let herself think. She wasn't about to make the risk of mingling among the crowd.
"Will you dance?"
Lily nodded, standing gracefully. She immediately headed for the conductor, letting herself into the alcove through a break in the curtain. She had felt that she needed to move. Dancing was traditional, after all. This was only a part of what had to happen.
He watched her walk away thoughtfully. She did not look like a maid, from the stance of her walk. She was someone worthy of being watched, someone who was used to stares. For a moment, she was a guest, and not someone who had been included only on the insistence of other people. He didn't know why he had spent time with her, before Sirene. He had probably just been lonely. That had to be it. His mind neatly clipped the idea away, labeling the pre-Sirene time as just fun.
Lily tapped the conductor on the shoulder as he looked through his folder. He frowned. No one should come into the band's space. He was about to reprimand her, but recognized the girl in time. Dressed in such a gown, she had looked like a guest, and not the shy planner of the party. He didn't have to say a word as she nodded to the typed repertoire of the orchestra, but only handed it to her.
Lily scanned the list of songs, choosing one she was familiar with. The conductor nodded. The cook had told him that the party may be graced with a solitary dancer. This girl may just have the knack, he observed as she ignored all curious stares as she strode to the center of the dance floor. All other dancers were politely refused permission to enter the area. The spotlight would be hers.
Lily stood poised, a bird waiting for some signal before taking off. The curious crowd became a blur dotted with a few familiar figures. She saw only one person, and knew exactly who she was dancing for. Reciprocation was no longer an issue. This was her one chance to tell everyone what she had come to this place for. Words would not be enough, even if she had them, but the dance just may be.
The first notes of the clarinet slid through the air, the opening to George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. With her first movements, Lily attracted the eye of all who had hoped to pass the time in conversation. There was some greater meaning behind the small motions as she slowly began a dance that was not quite ballet, or contemporary, or medieval, or any other type known to people. She moved slowly without trouble, but was ready for the quick change in tempo. She knew this piece of music, and could feel the time changes would affect the dance.
She spun in a blur of flashing emerald, pirouetting to the furious sound of the brass in their full glory. She was everything that anyone had ever imagined, as the bars of that particular piece filled the air with music. She was every dream of moving fluidly come to life in stunning clarity. She was the hope that someone might just understand how she, or he, felt inside. While being all these intangible things brought into a real being, she was also Lille Havfrue, dancing for someone who felt only the dim need to patronize her.
The camera men followed her almost blindly, while assistants furiously checked to make sure the quality of the tape was not lost. The video was fed to a remote truck and recorded. No one wanted to lose this footage. The world deserved to see this grace. It would. Posters and picture-postcards would be made by sunset the next day, and dancers would peer anxiously at this new competition, trying to recapture what she had done.
Lily leapt, and all watching felt a tug of hope except for two. Sirene smiled, an expression not meant to be pleasant. No dance could win over her heart. She was older than she appeared, and had been through more sorrow than any person here could guess. Jesse still saw only what he wanted to. Reality was much more challenging than his mind, as his mind boxed emotions as "black" or "white," and reality was fond of greys.
She paused once, and the director, watching as avidly as all with cameras and members of the band not needed to play, held his arms out in a sudden fermata. There was no need. Even the players, instruments to lips, on hand, or with bow to string, were watching the performance, following her lead instead of his. She pointed with her eyes, looking only at one person, and no one else.
He did not know that this was no place in the music to hold a note. He saw that she looked at him, and easily disregarded that. It was a celebration of his birthday, after all. He was an adult now, and could decide anything he wished without consent of his father. For some reason, Derek had disliked Sirene, but that was no longer of importance. Jesse was a man. He could decide such things for himself.
The rest of the dance was just as perfect. She was the music. The conductor had realized the futility of his presence minutes ago, and only watched. The band had opened the gossamer curtains that separated them from fully viewing the spectacle, and any playing stood to make sure they could watch the one keeping their tempo. She never faltered or slowed, except when The Music seemed to demand it from her. She did not pause again, knowing that her target did not understand.
She danced to the last portion with a furious abandon, using her last reserves of strength. Her landings from wild leaps made dull thuds. Her free hair seemed to tangle itself into elf-knots of its own creation. Her spins were no longer controlled, but had a life of their own and she seemed not likely to stand straight again at their completion. The dress seemed to dance with her, opposite her motions. The uneven skirt spun like some partner she could not quite control, but she did not notice. All that mattered was the music.
The song ended. Lily curtsied, sweeping the longer part of her skirt to the side as she made one last slow pirouette. It was different than usual etiquette, but somehow just right. She was gone from the dance floor before a stunned crowd could break into applause. She had not done it for approval from the masses. She had danced at the request of one person, and he had missed the meaning completely.
She stumbled once, involuntarily wincing when she caught herself. The crowd parted, uncertain about whether to applaud as she walked through them. Maddie sat her in a chair without prelude. She knew that Lily's feet had hurt since she had come to the manor, but after the first two days of walking, she had not made any sign of pain. Maddie knew the girl well enough that a wince meant she was seriously hurt.
Jesse was at her side, actually impressed for once. The crowd had moved aside for him, but with more thought. He wanted to ask a dozen questions at once, but Maddie and Candy were giving him stern looks. He chose one.
"Lily- where did you learn that?" He felt that it was his right to know.
Lily shrugged, pointing at herself. No one else had taught her how to react to music.
"Why didn't you do it before? Could you do it again? Could you teach someone else?" All questions were met with a shrug. She was in less of a mood for conversation than usual, and did not even try to get him to understand the simple words that Maddie, Candy, Mako, and she had paired with gestures.
Jesse began to take credit for her accomplishments already. She could be in his next movie. She wouldn't be the star, of course. She had no big name, and her stage presence wouldn't be enough for the type of movie he and his father had planned. But he already could envision a stellar dance sequence, as she did the doubling work for some co-star she could try to resemble.
Lily tried to stand. Not even Jesse missed the grimace on her face when a ballet-slippered foot touched the ground. She sat back down quicker than she meant to, collapsing into the chair. By now, several cameras and their crews had gathered near, shoving microphones in Jesse's face as they fired questions at him.
Maddie ushered them away, and for a moment looked formidable. The fifty-something woman, a little on the plump side, frowned severely, anyone's grandmother who meant what she said and said what she meant. She would not have anyone crowding the two. The presence of Candy and Mako was allowed, as they were far better to Lily than Jesse was. From her guarded watching of Jesse, his right to be present was revocable.
Jesse had reached to take off the slippers, but Lily's hand stopped his. She touched it, and that was enough. She seemed to be saying something with her eyes, an insistent whisper that he almost could hear.
"Lille?" He sounded less like a self-assured celebrity's son when he said her name, just as she, for an instant on the dance floor, had been a famous dancer who could command men to do most anything with the beauty of her motions.
She drew her hand back, hesitantly. She only watched as he untied the satin ribbons of emerald as she sat in the chair. He lifted her foot, untangling the ribbons easily. Candy remembered again that her friend had entertained more than a few amateur ballerinas in his time, maids who were "unworthy of such attentions." He always had been a liar.
Lily's feet were covered in blood. It came from nowhere and everywhere her feet touched the ground. The red liquid dripped to the floor, staining the pale pink carpet with a mark the shape of half a heart. A second drop followed before one of the caterers laid down a dark towel used for cleaning up spills. There was a gasp from the crowd, a collective intake of air that was shared by all who saw her but Lily, Sirene, and Maddie. Those three knew that her feet would not be perfect.
Her other foot was the same. Dr. Stacy Grey had left the company of Derek for a moment, concerned with this quiet girl. She had heard only good things about her from Derek, and had confessed the beautiful rose he had given to her was grown by Lily. She could think of no medical reason for such a thing, and one look at her escort told her that this was not something he knew of.
Jesse had an almost charitable thought, a rare occasion. Lily could not stand. She had already danced. She would not mind missing the rest of the evening, then. He lifted her into his arms without as much as a by-your-leave. Who would not want such a thing to happen, after all? Surely Lille would not protest. She had been too easily swayed by him saying her name. She wanted something more than whatever they had now, which in his experience was a common emotion.
Lily did not protest. She wouldn't have, even with a voice. This was the closest she had ever been to him. Jesse Dalton was close to fans, hugging and playfully kissing without thought, but even on that last morning of happiness, he had closed himself away from her. She held the ribbons to her slippers in her fingers. She felt herself move throughthe crowd. She had closed her eyes the instant she knew that he would not hand her away to someone else, ignoring curious glances from the crowd.
He said nothing. He did not make any consolations that her feet were bleeding. He did not comment that her dancing had been beautiful, the most graceful thing he had ever seen. He did not say that he had missed their tentative friendship. Most of all, he did not say that he would miss her when he returned to the party. Even if any of the above statements were true, especially since they were, he would not lose his pride because of a mute serving girl who could not be more.
He forgot one thing. She was not one of the girls who took meaning from every hair, from every breath, from every word. She saw significance, but was far more direct. Had she a voice, she would have stated how she felt. A blunt honesty had been her usual downfall, as she would not tell a lie or half-lie through some self-imposed code of honest. Instead, Lily waited for some sincere declaration he would not provide.
He found her room only with her help. She pointed to the correct hallway, and then selected the proper door. He found the light-switch with some difficulty, letting the light fully reveal the room before he would try finding the bed. He set her on it gently, with only the smallest of impatient jars, before looking around.
The room was small, and bare. It was a nicely sized room, for a normal house. This was a mansion. The sparse furniture was more than adequate, but lacked personality. The only possessions in view were a few plain skirts and blouses hanging in the closet and an emerald pen that she had used to write some short note in her illegible language. Only two words were recognizable, and they made up her name.
"I'll see you at sunrise," he said abruptly before leaving the room. He knew what he was saying. He would go out to the beach with her, and find once again the morning routine that he sometimes found himself missing. She was quiet and contemplative where Sirene was brash and shallow. He left before he could see a response.
Lily watched him go. He wanted to come to the beach again? Why would he do such a thing? Perhaps he just wanted to be rid of her as an annoyance. He hadn't even complimented her dance, but had thought only of The Movie. She knew that look as well as anyone by now. She stood, ignoring the blood that tainted the floor in a short series of footprints, and walked to her note with a ferocity that would make a tigress back down. She had one final group of words to add.
