The Frozen Rose

CHAPTER NINE: Storm

All week long, William had done as Elizabeth asked. Even the week before, he had done it. He had walked the other direction when he saw her, and he had lowered his voice was she might be able to hear it. He had thought it would give him satisfaction, but it did not. Pleasing her used to be fun, but if pleasing her meant staying away from her, he had an entirely different opinion.

He was in the theatre, watching the two main actors on stage. They were practicing the first scene from the play in which Charlotte Lamb's character met John Kipling's and they fell in love. The scene ended with a song and a dance by the two main actors.

William had been sitting on his seat the entire day, watching both actors rehears many scenes. Every time, they had discussed with lord Byron about the most trivial things. The lord was taking everything quite well – better than William would – and his respect for the director grew with every discussion he was able to end without getting beat up.

He wanted to go behind the curtain and look at the workers, but he had realized he had been watching them too much. His book would be filled with stories about the people no one saw, rather than the actors they wanted to know everything about.

He also did not go behind the curtain because he might see Elizabeth again. It had been hard to pretend she was not there and to not walk up to her and talk with her. She had been his entire life once, but he feared she still was part of it now.

Suddenly the room grew quiet and the rain that came falling out of the sky was audible. It had been raining all day, but not to the extent that it would silence a theatre room. Everyone looked up as if they would be able to see the rain through the roof.

"Is everyone so daft that they have to look up at the roof when they hear rain?" John Kipling shouted out. "It is just rain, people. You are in London. You will see a lot more rain than this. Can we now proceed with the rehearsal?"

Everyone nodded in agreement, afraid to be called daft again. The people in the room started moving and performed the scene again, until lord Byron stopped them to give instructions. It took them a few more hours before he believed they had perfected it, and told everyone the working day was over.

While William finished writing down his last notes, people were already walking to the exit, and by the time he had packed everything, they were all returning.

"The rain is too hard," he heard someone say. "You cannot even see the end of the street because of the weather."

Great, William thought. He was stuck in the theatre. Luckily he was not alone, and this could be a good time to meet the workers personally. It might be a great part of his book to introduce everyone who created the spectacle.

But his plan failed when he saw Elizabeth, her red gown a big contrast to the poor dresses of the women around her. She was speaking with women he recognized as seamstresses. Of course she would easily make friends, had William expected anything else?

He decided it was better not to go to her, but he also did not have it in him to not look at her. So he took a seat on the nearest chair and watched her talking.

She still laughed the same, he noted. A beautiful smile appearing on her lips first, followed by her hands reaching for her heart, and then her lips opened and let out that gorgeous sound of her happiness. He wished he would make her do all of that again, but he feared it would not be possible. He had not forgotten how angry she had been at him when he had tried to make things better between them. Thinking back of it, he must admit it might not have been the best idea to make her brother ask for her forgiveness, but it seemed like a good plan at the time.

Her way of moving when she talked had also not changed. She would often turn her hands around in the air when she was explaining a story. The motion made him think of two wheels of a carriage turning around, and he had told her that once. She had laughed at it and said she wanted to reach the climax of her story sooner, like she wanted a carriage to drive faster.