When Phoebe finally left the lion enclosure, Phillip approached her with a letter in his hands. She recognised the envelope immediately, the sunshine yellow wax seal giving it away. Her parents had written. "Phoebe, a letter arrived for you today."
He gave her the letter, their fingers brushing together, she could feel how soft and unworked they were. Compared to her own rough, calloused fingers. She thanked him and turned away to read her letter in private. Phillip called her back, "If you don't mind, may I ask who sent you the letter? It's just that Barnum said you don't have any family…"
He trailed off when he saw her eyes, they were filled with tears yet still glared as viscously as a lion. "Mr Carlyle, I'd like to keep my correspondence private if you'd allow that."
She barely waited for him to acknowledge her comment before she briskly walked to her dressing room, not seeing his hurt face.
Phoebe sat in the corner of the room, behind her dressing screen and opened the letter.
My dear Phoebe,
News of this circus you've joined has now reached over to us. People say it's full of freaks, coloured folk and degenerates. It sounds wonderful! Everything you've always loved!
We've just dyed the doves pink and purple, like the costume you described. They make us think you, our beautiful daughter always flying around. Your father is currently having his afternoon tea with Gerald, it was very amusing yesterday! Gerald managed to get your father to eat some of his leaves! George did not warm up to the taste.
I'd love to update you on the gossip but unfortunately I don't have any, recently we've been invited to less parties. Don't feel bad darling, I couldn't care less, those people always acted like there were butterflies in their heads. Always so boring and polite! Have you met anyone yet?
I hope you're happy in New York. If you need anything you know you can always ask. And if you ever want to come home you can, I hope they are treating you well in America. How are Anne and W.D.? If you ever want to come back they can come as well.
I love you my dove,
Mother
Phoebe couldn't help but break down and start sobbing. She missed her family so desperately. All she wanted was her mother to tell her what she should do about her growing attraction to Mr Carlyle. Phoebe knew she couldn't leave New York, not when the circus was starting and she had so many amazing people who had become so close to her. She couldn't make the Wheelers join her as much as she'd want the m to see what life in England is like.
When Phoebe heard the door creak open, she hurried to wipe the tears stains from her face, and tried to compose herself. Rushing to her feet, she turned to see who had followed her into the dressing room, half expecting to see Anne. Instead, she saw the concerned face of Charity Barnum, as beautiful ever, in a simple pink dress, her golden hair loose.
"Is there . . . something I can do for you, Mrs Barnum?" Phoebe mustered, through broken sobs. She turned away trying to organise her already neat vanity.
The woman gave Phoebe a small and sweet smile, shaking her head. Phoebe could tell from the tender and condoling way Charity was looking at her, as if she were going to break like a porcelain doll, that while she didn't know what Phoebe was upset about, she knew what she needed. The tension left Phoebe's shoulders, and she felt her sobs escape her throat, as Charity bound over to her, arms wide. She didn't hesitate to wrap Phoebe up in her embrace, despite the considerable height difference between the pair. After a short while, Phoebe pulled away, though reluctant to leave Charity's motherly embrace.
"When was the last time you were hugged, Phoebe?" Charity asked, searching the girl's eyes. "Anne and W.D. don't count."
It didn't take Phoebe long to answer. "It's been a while," she said, in a small voice.
Charity could swear her heart broke as the words left Phoebe's trembling lips. This poor girl, usually so composed and strong, had finally shattered. Instead of seeking comfort from the Wheelers who knew her best or Lettie, or any of the other acts who would have been more than welcoming to listen to Phoebe's troubles, she suffered in silence, alone. Charity sat her down on the fading velvet chaise lounge. She took out her own handkerchief and handed it to Anne. The girl took it, graciously, and dabbed at her eyes.
"It's silly really," Phoebe finally sighed, after she found her voice. "I just got a letter from my Mother."
"Your mother?" Charity inquired, softly.
Phoebe took a deep breath, "I was adopted when I was five by Lord George and Lady Amelia Whitlock. My birth mother died in childbirth and I don't know who my first father is."
Phoebe never looked in Charity's eyes, "They're good people to adopt a young black girl as their heir, my mother can't have children you see. They dealt with a lot as a consequence though. I mean they were already known as very eccentric, my father has a pet giraffe that he has daily afternoon tea with, but people tried to humiliate and shame them for having me."
"I was raised in high society, with enough money you can do anything, as you know. I had a wonderful education and access to anything I could ever want. But the majority of people who were always around me could barely stomach me, or others like me. All my life, no stranger has ever smiled at me. They've only ever treated me as something they've found on the bottom of their shoe. They're not capable of extending me kindness."
"It's why I escaped to the circus, I used to go every night. I was bewitched by the beauty and freedom I saw the performers moved with."
"You enjoy it, don't you? Being up in the air," Charity beamed.
Phoebe's eyes sparkled, as she finally looked back as the older woman, a mixture of adoration and tears catching on the light. "There is no better feeling than flying up there," she replied.
"How long have done your acts? I must say, I've never seen anything quite like the trapeze or silks."
"I discovered the circus when I was 10, I was playing just outside our estate when a group of older boys surrounded me. They attacked me, punching, kicking, throwing stones, they ripped my dress and threw disgusting insults at me. The servants who didn't like me just watched, sadistic smiles on their faces. When the boys got bored and left me, I ran and ran, I was so scared. I can remember that all I wanted was to escape. I ran until I approached this huge tent, the biggest tent I have ever seen. There were caravans everywhere, a large group of animal enclosures, people of different ethnicities, shapes and size practicing several different talents. It was magical."
"Pable, the ringmaster, found me. I was surprised to see he had skin darker than mine. He took me back to my parents and invited them to come to their show that night. That night I saw the acrobats who performed stunts on aerial hoops, and bars, and ropes. I went to their show every night after that, tried practicing the stunts I saw them do in my room. My mother and father were so happy I found something that would distract the world. Pablo eventually noticed how much I attended the circus and offered to train me on the trapeze. The acrobats, Katya and Boris taught me all their tricks over the next four years. When I was 15 I invented the aerial silks act by tying my sheets together and fastening them to the ballroom ceiling. I created the moves and dances all by myself. I never performed before here though. Too many people knew my name, I didn't want my parents to be shamed more than they already had been. Useless to do that anyway"
Charity smiled, despite her initial shock. She should have known, Phoebe never spoke of her past, of how she had finer clothes then most people of her station or how she spoke with a proper accent, or even how she was able to help P.T. "What do you mean?" She didn't want to pry, but she had to ask.
Not wanting to close herself up to Charity, who was only being kind, Anne took a deep breath. "People have heard of the circus in England, they've realised who I am. My parents have become social pariahs, they only get invited to important events now, and only because of the money they have."
Nothing Charity could say would ease the situation, she could imagine the guilt Phoebe was feeling, she felt similarly when she married Phineas, for inflicting shame upon people she loved dearly but couldn't let go of what she loved most, so she instead reached out and held Anne's hand. She gave her a reassuring squeeze, and Phoebe smiled, watery-eyed. Suddenly, the door flung open, and two giggling girls came bounding in, pigtails flying. Rushing to dry her tears, Anne plastered on a fake smile, greeting Caroline and Helen Barnum. It wasn't that fake; they were both wearing the infamous 'Lettie Lutz Beard', with pride. They clambered over their mother and Phoebe, eager to show them the new merchandise.
Phoebe spotted something moving out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look towards the door, which was still ajar, she caught the pacing figure of Phillip Carlyle, who appeared to be indecisive on whether he should enter the dressing room or not. Phoebe worried that he had overheard Charity and her's conversation.
"Phoebe, Phoebe," the youngest, Helen, tugged on Phoebe's skirt. She was nine years old, and still had a plump face with rosy cheeks. She was so darling, and so hard to say no to. "Can you show me and Caroline some tricks?"
"We want to fly like you!" Caroline added, enthusiastically.
Chuckling, Phoebe looked across at Charity, who seemed apprehensive. "It'll be safe, I promise," she assured their mother, as Helen bounced up and down in her lap. "Just the basics."
Reaching out to stroke her daughter's hair, Charity smiled. "If they want to," she replied, with a twinkle in her eye. "You never know, they could be naturals. Could be joining you this time next year."
Phoebe laughed, and stood up, smoothening her dress down. She allowed the girls to drag her out of the dressing room, their hands in hers, both equally as eager and excited. She knocked into Phillip, who's brow was knitted into a worried line. He saw her worried face, "I wasn't listening in, I promise," he apologised, and though her gut instinct was to distrust him, Phoebe couldn't help but believe him. "I know what I said was insensitive, I don't know your personal business, nor do I have any right to know it. I apologise for taking such liberties. I just wanted to make sure you were alright." Even as he spoke his eyes were searching her face, looking for signs of negativity.
"I'm fine, Thank you." she replied softly, their eyes locked and she was once again mesmerised. She didn't break eye contact with him as the girls led her to the stage, where her beloved ropes awaited them. However, she had to look away when Helen began to swing upside down on the rope, impatiently.
Phillip watched as Phoebe shed her dress, her training clothes underneath. His breath hitched in his throat as she slid the material up her slender body, baring her legs first. As she pulled the dress over her head, her curls fell free, falling about her face. She was left in a pair of saffron shorts with white trim, and matching white chiffon camisole. He smiled as she threw off, quite literally, her shoes, making the girls giggle. She then began some easy stretches, such as touching her toes and flexing her arms, as the girls copied her.
Charity came and stood beside him, arms crossed, watching with joy as her daughters fell about laughing when Phoebe pretended not to notice the giant hoop behind her. Phoebe was very good with the Barnum daughters, who had grown to see her as a sister, of sorts. Glancing over at Phillip, she smirked when she saw the infatuation in his expression, eyes never leaving Phoebe.
"She's very beautiful, isn't she?" Charity inquired, nonchalantly, waiting for Phillip's response.
He nodded. "I've never seen anybody like her," he admitted. "But she's a closed book. I don't know anything about her."
Sympathising with him, she sighed. "Phillip, she's always been alone in the world, she's had support but no one could ever sympathise," Charity explained. That statement weighed heavily on Phillip. Suddenly her frosty attitude made sense, and Phillip could barely imagine what she's had to experience. "Be patient with her. She'll let you in if she wants to, but you can't rush her."