She laid her hand on each of her suitors as she maintained her en pointe position on a single leg, allowing each of the four to promenade her. She never once allowed her balance to lapse, nor her other foot touch the floor, not until she stepped away from the suitors and reached up for that high, unsupported arabesque en pointe, soaring into the stars. She held it as the ballroom dissolved into applause.
Marietta soaked in the moment before immersing herself back in the ballet and dancing the Christmas night away.
As the ballet reached its finale, the moment Marietta had been nervously awaiting arrived. With Harriet to one side of her, Victoria on the other, the rest of the dancers falling in around them, they curtsied as one in a révérence, to a storm of applause.
Marietta searched out her family. Theodore was frowning at the vacant seat beside him as if he expected Drosselmeier to suddenly materialise. Frederick was aiming his Sanderson camera at her as Geoffrey clapped heartily. Ida was fussing with the centrepiece. Marietta waited for Madame Belinskaya and the orchestra to each claim their share of applause before she stepped forward. The ballroom hushed, expectant of an encore.
‘I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to you all for attending our Christmas performance of The Sleeping Beauty tonight,’ she said, taking care to include several of their more esteemed guests in her gaze. ‘Your patronage was most appreciated. And if you would care to view my upcoming performance, I am delighted to announce that it shall take place at the Theatre Royal, where I am to dance as a new member of the corps.’
A second wave of applause sounded. This one was accompanied by whispers and flitting looks at Theodore and Ida Stelle, rigid in their seats.
In a swoop of heavy velvet brushing against the floor, the curtains closed.
‘And that concludes our final dance with the studio,’ Victoria said, her face flushed, décolletage gleaming with sweat.
‘I presume Madame Belinskaya wishes to speak with you,’ Harriet told Marietta, the tell-tale thud of her cane making its way across the boards. She clasped her hand briefly. ‘We shall speak further this week. I look forward to it.’
‘As do I.’ Marietta inclined her head and turned to their ballet mistress.
‘Well, devushka, it seems you have chosen to honour what it means to dance ballet.’ Madame Belinskaya leant closer in a swirl of pistachio-green chiffon and the scent of Jicky. ‘Now your education in ballet can truly begin.’
‘I shall miss your classes dearly,’ Marietta said.
‘No. Those classes shall be with you always.’ Madame Belinskaya prodded Marietta with her cane. ‘In there.’ Her face powder cracked as she broke into a semblance of a smile. ‘I look forward to seeing what greatness you shall gift the stage. Now, I do believe your family desires to speak with you.’ Her forehead creased. ‘They are awaiting you outside the ballroom. Take heart and do not waver from your path.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Marietta exited the ballroom. The guests were deep in their saucers of champagne and otherwise occupied as she walked by in a whisper of tulle and chiffon. Couples were flocking to dance and the orchestra were busying themselves with playing a jaunty Christmas tune that was far simpler than Tchaikovsky’s rigorous compositions.
She halted outside the library door. It was closed. Through it, she heard her parents discussing her in hushed tones.
‘Are you leaving tonight?’ She started and turned round.
Frederick was leaning against the wainscoting, watching her. She hesitated, then nodded.
‘Go upstairs. Gather your things and speak to them on your way out. It will be better this way, give them less opportunity in which to act against your plans.’ He walked over to her. ‘I’ll stall them while you pack.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
After Marietta changed into a woollen travel dress and her warmest coat and gloves, she packed a brown leather case in a hurry. She couldn’t resist adding a few of her finest gowns after she’d packed the case with her simpler dresses and warmest clothes which would be better suited to her new life. A couple of her most time-weathered books, ballet slippers. A box of her favoured pistachio macarons, a small pleasure for her first night alone. Aware that time was melting away, she swept the contents of her dressing table into her vanity case with one hand and looked around, her heart measuring the final beats of her life in this rose-patterned room. She slid out the top drawer of her bedside table. Marzipan stood on his hind legs and looked up at her, twitching his nose. A reminder of Legat in soft fur and quivering whiskers. ‘Now to find a home for you,’ Marietta murmured, scooping him up and setting him down in a silk-lined hatbox. She stabbed breathing holes into its lid with a forgotten hatpin and picked up her cases. With a final glance around, she folded her acceptance letter into her pocket. She had planned on departing the Stelle townhouse regardless of its contents, on renting a small room from the funds she’d garnered from selling her Cartier brooch. Yet now she had lodgings already secured for her. That letter was a dream shaped in ink and paper. A glimpse into the future she’d returned for. One that filled her heart with hope and music. She took a deep breath and walked downstairs.
‘Exactly where do you suppose you are going?’ her father said, awaiting Marietta at the bottom of the staircase.
Ida appeared at his side. She blanched upon catching sight of the cases, a slender hand coming to rest on her glittering neckline. ‘Marietta, this is not the answer. Come, accompany me to the drawing room where we might discuss matters in a more befitting way.’
‘I am afraid my mind is set on the matter. I am taking my leave,’ Marietta said.
Frederick hurried into view. He instantly took measure of the situation. ‘Let her go; you know well how tenacious she is.’ He winked at Marietta and Ida whirled around.
‘Frederick!’
‘I am afraid, Mother, that there is no resolution available. We have a fundamental difference of opinion and I doubt this can be reconciled.’
Theodore began to speak. Marietta quelled him with a single pointed look. ‘And Father, I have publicly announced my intentions and if I do not follow through then people shall take notice. I have also taken the care to write several letters to allies who will hold you accountable if you resist my departure.’
‘I shall not stand in your way but if you so choose to leave then know this: you may not return. Neither shall you see one penny of your inheritance.’
Ida had to sit down. She looked pale at this turn of events.
Marietta’s smile was slow. ‘I shall hold you to that.’ She stepped down and around him. Past Frederick, who pressed her hand as she went by, out to the foyer, where a footman scrambled to open the door for her, his eyes wide.
She walked out into the night, cutting a lone figure in the deserted streets of Nottingham. Windows were aglow with festive vignettes of families celebrating together. Marietta kept walking through the slumbering city and towards her new lodgings. Towards the future she had sacrificed everything for and which beckoned her with a glittering promise.
A tiny flake of snow fell onto her face. She paused and glanced up. Endless snowflakes were tumbling towards her; the very first snowfall of the year. A white Christmas.
Marietta laughed and spun in a circle, tilting her face up, snow collecting in her eyelashes and hair. The stars were invisible under a white sky yet she knew they were smiling down on her. She vowed to them, to Legat, that she would never stop dreaming.
She decided thereupon that in the tradition of Everwood, she would select a starname for herself.
Rêverie.
Acknowledgements
This book has long been a book of my heart but it wouldn’t exist at all without my magical agent, Thérèse Coen, who utterly refused to give up on it. I’m forever grateful for everything you’ve done for me.
I owe an entire frozen sugar palace of thanks to my wonderful editor Katie Seaman, who has championed Midnight from the start and expertly worked her m
agic on it until it glittered. I can think of no-one else I’d rather have danced this pas de deux with; Team Unicorn!
Thank you to the amazing team at HQ Stories for welcoming me and making the most enchanting home for Midnight, complete with oodles of support and the shiniest proofs! Special thanks to Katrina Smedley (soul-collector) and Lucy Richardson for setting everyone a-flurry and being generally brilliant. Huge thanks to Charlotte Phillips for the cover of dreams. Thank you to Fliss Porter, Harriet Williams, Darren Shoffren and Angela Thomson for all their sales magic.
To Stephanie Garber, Sarah Morgan, Alex Bell, Sophie Anderson, Nydia Hetherington, Heidi Swain, Veronica Henry and Beth Cartwright, who were the first to read and blurb Midnight, thank you for your kindness and support.
For Lauren Cassidy (@fictiontea), Gavin Hetherington (How to Train your Gavin) and Dan Bassett (@dantheman1504), I owe a whole Land of Sweets for your early championing of this book.
Thank you to Jenny and The Dance Studios for inspiring me with years of ballet classes.
To Amy McCaw for constantly cheering me on and being a generally lovely jewel of a friend.
For Vic James, LD Lapinski, and the Swaggers for all being truly excellent writing friends, deserving of a hundred special Mia hot chocolates!
To my wonderful friends: Christine Spoors, Alex McGahan, Sarah Hackmann/Mother of Ferns, thank you for always being there for me. For my Shakespearean Sisters, I couldn’t do without you. And to Jonathan Norman, thanks for being the best ice-skating partner-in-crime.
Many thanks to everyone in my family that’s cheered me on and celebrated my successes with me, especially my mum, who has always believed in the fairies at the bottom of the garden.
For Michael Brothwood, my husband, no matter how many kings and queens come and go, how many stars join the skies, my heart shall be yours forevermore.
Finally, to everyone that’s picked up a copy of this book; my deepest thanks. I do hope you enjoyed the enchantments of Everwood.
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