Chapter 8
December 21, 1851
It's the eighth day of Christmas, and what did Barnum see, but eight pints of eggnog…
P.T. frowned. Everyone was relaxing after rehearsing the Greatest (Christmas) Show, and he should have been content. This had already been a holiday season to remember. But Caroline had become increasingly withdrawn and sullen in the past few days, and neither he nor Charity could pry out of her was was wrong.
His musing was interrupted by a rather spirited debate about eggnog, of all things. One of the troupe members had mixed it up in the Barnum's kitchen and was serving it, and this had led to a number of odd arguments concerning the seasonal beverage:
"Why is it cold?"
"Well, how else would you serve it?"
"Hot."
"Maybe, if you're a barbarian."
"Well, excuse me-"
"What do you mean, 'Why is there no bourbon in it?'"
"Well, in the South-"
"Non-alcoholic is really better…"
"Where's the fun in that?"
"But what is eggnog exactly?"
This last statement was uttered by none other than Jenny Lind, who was rather surprised to be the sudden center of shocked attention.
"Umm...sorry?"
"..."
"YOU HAVE TO TRY IT RIGHT NOW!" came the unanimous reply. She did, rather bemusedly. She took the first sip.
"That's quite terrible."
She took another sip.
"In an oddly pleasing way." Everyone laughed. As the conversations got rolling again, P.T. was struck by a sudden idea. Jenny. When she had reached a lull in her conversations, P.T. pulled her aside for a quiet word. If Caroline couldn't confide in him or Charity with what was bothering her, perhaps she'd be willing to open up to Jenny…
"So, Caroline," Jenny began. The young preteen looked up rather sullenly. "You've been awfully quiet lately." She shrugged.
"Is it about the ballet?" Jenny pressed on. She knew she had hit it on the head when Caroline scowled, not meeting her eyes.
"Caroline," Jenny said gently. "You're not always going to win the part you audition for. It's disappointing, but it's the reality you face when you pursue your art. Caroline kicked one foot in unconscious frustration.
"But I worked so hard! And I would be a really good Sugar Plum Fairy!" Caroline's voice started to rise, and Jenny took a quick look to make sure everyone was still distracted by their own conversations. They were.
"You would be an excellent Sugar Plum Fairy, Caroline. But you are only twelve years old. A very mature twelve years old," she added hastily as Caroline's head snapped up indignantly, "but you're only just getting started. You have years to perform prestigious shows in coveted roles. How old was the girl who won the part?"
"Much older," Caroline muttered, "At least 17 or 18." Jenny smiled sympathetically.
"She has the double advantage, sweetheart: more experience and more physical development. Besides," she continued, "You can't always tell why a director favors one artist over another. Why, do you know how many music schools rejected me when I was a young teenager?"
"None, I bet," Caroline replied crossly. Jenny raised a reproachful eyebrow at her, and Caroline blushed at her own rudeness. "How many?"
"Six." Caroline's jaw dropped.
"You're making that up," she said accusingly, before she could stop herself. Jenny laughed.
"Not at all. Everyone has to start somewhere. So chin up, okay? You have a choice to make: you can sulk and mope and perform poorly, because it isn't the role you wanted. Or, you can give it your all, and show the director that despite your age, you are a mature professional. He'll be much more impressed by that than if you were the best ballerina on stage." Caroline nodded slowly.
"I'm still sad, though," she admitted. Jenny smiled.
"That's normal, sweetheart. But you can't obsess over it. Remember, this is supposed to be fun. And, honestly, sometimes the reason you lose a part is such a small thing: you're probably not tall enough for the Sugar Plum Fairy costume, for example."
"What?!" Caroline exclaimed, but she was smiling now. Jenny helped her off the floor so that they could join the impromptu party.
"Dresses don't grow on trees, you know!"
...seven hours of shopping,
six snow angels,
FIVE WOODEN SLEDS!
Four painted zebras,
three new daring acts,
two dancing daughters,
and a beautiful Christmas tree!
A/N: I don't know what music schools Jenny Lind might have tried to gain entry to, or if she was rejected by any of them. But she gave her first noteworthy performance when she was 18, and as she said: everyone starts somewhere!
Question of the Day: Do you like eggnog?
Fun story: When I was five, I gagged at the smell of eggnog while trying to bring my dad his glass, and he enjoys reminding me of this every year! :D
I should really taste eggnog this year though…