Page 12 of The Duke's Dream
Her arms shook as she speared them into her coat.
"Where are you going?"
"To Covent Garden. I must speak with Katherina."
The ballet teacher brought them all to England. She was the only link with their past.
HeleneracedthroughFirthStreet, her breath harsh against her freezing nose. Soho’s slick pavement nearly sent her stumbling. She crossed her arms, protecting the letter she held close to her chest. People stared at her as if aware she was the sister of the enemy.
Could Gaetan be alive? How many nights had she cried herself to sleep? Yearning for the big brother who would take her on missions to find eagle nests, promising that once they found one, the mother eagle would give them wings... They would spend hours rambling through the hills, only returning when they were thoroughly exhausted and utterly happy.
Helene stifled a sob. Her brother was dead. Who would send these cruel lies?
As she turned the corner, the towering facade of Covent Garden Theater came into view.
Helene halted, panting, and stared at the colossus made of Italian marble and English ambition. The columns soared high, reaching for Apollo, the dancers’ God. The grand portico opened its arms as if saying, ‘Come, bring me your pennies, and I will give you dreams, and if you are lucky, I will teach you to fly.’
A vendor passed by her, shouting his wares, and a carriage clanged its bell as the chauffeur shooed her out of the way. The letter inside her coat pulsed, a beat more insistent than the peddlers. Bracing herself, Helene circled to the back entrance. The cacophony of the street faded behind her, replaced by the muffled sounds of the orchestra warming up as she strode through the dimly lit corridors.
Katherina paced the green room, instructing the gathered dancers for the evening’s performance.
Helene's hands trembled, and she fisted them by her sides. She would demand answers from Katherina—no more secrets.
“I need to speak with you.”
The older woman shot her a sidelong glance. “Where is your costume? The presentation starts in forty.”
“Would you spare me five minutes?”
Katherine exhaled, flicking her hands in that familiar, impatient way. “Helene, the barre won’t wait.”
“I received a letter from my brother.”
Katherina’s face blanched underneath her heavy makeup, and she turned to the corps de ballet. “Pliés, grand plié, port de bras. Then, rehearse the divertissement. Go along, merci.”
Helene followed Katherina into her cramped dressing room.
Katherina warmed her hands by the small stove. “After spending the winter of 1794 in prison, I'm never warm enough. Did you know there was a brigade of servants in Versailles whose only task was to heat our rooms?”
Usually, Helene drank Katherina’s reminiscences from her time as Marie Antoinette’s maid of honor, but not now.
She pulled the letter out of her coat. "This came today. It says it’s from my brother. How is it possible when all my family is dead?”
The older woman frowned while scanning the lines, and the corners of her lips lifted. It was strange, that smile. It made Helene uncomfortable.
“Your brother was apetitgentleman when you two were little. Now, he has become a dashing officer. Your father would have been proud.”
“Is this true, then? I’m a nobleman’s daughter?”
Katherina’s smile faltered. She pressed her lips together, her gaze shifting to the letter again as if searching for meaning in its lines. After drawing a slow breath, she closed her eyes.
“Do you think I would leave Paris carting a brood of peasants?” Her voice seemed tired as she reached for a shelf and brought out a square bundle.
Helene accepted the offer, peeling back the edges of a yellowed handkerchief to reveal a lock of hair lighter than her own and a sheet of music. The melody was familiar—a sweet ballad she often hummed before falling asleep. Beneath it waited a miniature of her mother.
“I look like her.” Helene’s voice caught on a sob.
She closed her eyes, and her mother’s scent brushed against Helene’s nose, so close, yet so cruelly out of reach—lily of the valley. Her mother’s favorite flower. She believed it brought good luck.
