I guess chapter three was not the last chapter.
Maria Louise insisted that I stay in the palace. I can still hear her argument but most, I can hear George's argument. My father's manor was cold, dead, empty, from a life I never led. I wasn't needed to run his land. Above my head, I can hear the clock tick away the minutes until I go out with George de Sand. Despite George's hopeful words month ago, the physician was correct. I now tire easily and I am weak. Like how he nursed me back to health, he pledged that he would nurse me to strength. On good days, we ride or walk through the rose gardens. In poor weather, we spend the afternoons in the music room where he teaches me popular ballroom dances and I play my flute for him.
At two, his servant comes to get me. He leads me to the front hall where George waits. I lay my hand on his elbow as if we were dancing. One, two, three, two, two, three, our shoes click on the stone pathways of the garden and my hand flutters on his elbow, too shy to touch him.
"Mademoiselle Aurore,when are you leaving for theConservatory?" his voice wavers, hiding emotion. He knows although he asks.
"Soon. I will miss you both." I refer to George and Maria Louise as if they were married. My hand flits above his arm, afraid he'll notice my slip. I turn away, covering my blush.
"We never will marry; the princess must marry well above my social status," he whispers. I drop my hand from his arm. My cousin loves him. Can't she bend the rules for George de Sand? I know the answer though, even before I can hear him walk away from me. Through the corner of my eye I watch him lean down to the roses planted beside the walkway. "As you must understand." I nod. Yes, court forces us to conform to its rules. I can feel my cousin's pain, Maria Louise understood her fate much before I did. I step towards George as I feel myself grow faint.
When I wake, I know George is near me as is Maria Louise. The princess worries like a mother hen.
"Tomorrow we can spend our afternoon in the music room," George says.
"Monsieur George, please do not fault yourself."
When my flute accompanies George's piano, I feel so complete. In the dim music room, all that matters is our melody. Outside the room, I know that my sickness will return and I know that my cousin longs for a man she can't marry. But as soon as my lips touch my flute, I forget her pain or my weakness. I forget George's pain. I forget my father's advisor's words.
On my eighteenth birthday, my father's advisors told me to marry. Soon, I would need to settle down and take control of the estate. Soon I would have to cease being a spoiled schoolgirl. I couldn't spend my life sheltered from the world. And I should marry should my sickness interfere with my work. During our walk that afternoon, George advised me to apply to the Conservatory in Paris. Then I could continue my education and put off marriage.
Beside George, I sit on the piano bench. I watch his hands dance across the piano keys as I drop my flute from my lips and set it on the piano. My fingers join his dance across the piano, like he taught me, has been teaching me. In the months since I fell ill, George taught me to play piano. Long hours, patient with me, all for the moment I could join him and, like on the ballroom, our hands dance elaborate waltzes together. In the middle, our hands meet and he takes mine and leads me away from the piano.
Around the music room, we replicate our fingers. I can feel his hand on my back and his breath on my hair. We are so close and our movements so practiced. He leads me, his hand constantly on me in case I faint, in case I realize.
In soft voices, George commented how poor a dancer my cousin was. Such a lady, so well bred, he laughed so quiet. During parties, I spin next to him and I know what his touch feels like through my dress. My father's advisors told me how good it would be for the family if I married George de Sand. As the princess's cousin, there are always rumors about me.
"I'm sorry I am not my cousin, Monsieur George," I whisper when his hand rests on my back a moment too long. His gaze meets mine for a second.
I told my advisors that marrying George de Sand would be impossible and I would be betraying my country and my cousin. Maria Louise's feelings matter more than mine. She has known the Rose Knight since she was a child and loved him as long. Soon, I will go to the Conservatory and the advisors will never have the chance to put into words my deepest wish.
Yet, when we dance I only need remember our clasped hands.