The Frozen Rose

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: After working hours

"I have two tickets for the circus in two days," William said. He had found Elizabeth with the seamstresses, her favourite place to work. She was working on the details of a blue dress that would fit one of the dancers. While she was stitching, she had to make sure she did not attach the fabric to her own orange dress. She had done all she could not to – like taking off the bodice with long sleeves to reveal another bodice with short sleeves – but could not hide her skirts from the needle.

She looked up to see him standing in front of her with two pieces of paper in his hand, proud like a little boy. "That is fantastic," she told him. "I am looking forward to it."

"You will be amazed," he said while he dragged a chair closer to hers and sat down on it. "Tis much more spectacular than the theatre or the opera. I am actually quite surprised you have never been to one."

"I did not know it was considered art before you told me about it," she told him while sticking the needle through the fabric. She saw him lean closer to watch what she was doing.

"That looks beautiful," he said.

She felt a smile come on her lips, but kept her head down, concentrated on her work. "Tis the detailing of a dress for the dancers."

"Embroidery on the hem," he said. "Very detailed indeed."

She looked up at him. "You would be surprised how many details are in the play."

"Really? You think I have not noticed them all?"

"I do not know. Have you?"

He gave her a smile, then summed up: "the embroidery on the dresses, the flowers in the hair of the dancers, the sad tones in the first song where they sing of happiness, the books used as props are written by lord Byron. Am I missing any?"

She smiled at how fluently he listed all those things. "No, I do not think so. But you did miss all the technical details, like how the clothing is blue when the scene is sad, and yellow when they speak of happy things. Or like how the rocks are placed over the edge of the bath so that people would not see the edge. Everything is well thought of."

"And you know all the secrets," he said with a smile in his voice.

"Of course I do. Like I said, I help a little everywhere, so I know secrets of everything."

"Then you would not mind telling me some, yes? I could write them in the book."

She looked up at him. "Would that not ruin all the magic? If everybody knew all the secrets of theatre, no one would want to watch it. Is it not better to leave them in anticipation? Let them wonder about everything and make them believe it is truly magic."

He tilted his head and thought about it, but his eyes remained on her. "Now you have put me to a difficult dilemma."

"How so?"

"So far, I have written about all the technical aspects of the play, explaining how the light can change colours for example. But is it indeed not better to let them think of explanations for themselves? Or make them believe it is magic, indeed? If I would decide to not write about it, I would have to rewrite almost the entire book."

"But would it not be worth it?"

She gave him her best convincing look, and he seemed to think about it. People indeed wanted to know how everything was made, for it truly felt magical. But people did not realize that when they knew the truth, the magic disappears. And not only for one play. Multiple plays used the same techniques, and thus the magic of every play would be gone. One could say the play remained beautiful even when you know all the magic, but Elizabeth believed not. Twas better to keep the people guessing.

"I shall think of it," William told her. "I do not know if I will be able to finish the book in time if I rewrite it."

"When should it be finished?" she asked. The play was to start in a few days, having its grand opening in a week. The book was to be ready around the same time, but she was not certain.

"The day after the first play it should be in the shops," he told her.

Elizabeth sighed. "I will miss it. All my time spend here will be finished in a week, and then I have nothing to fill my days with anymore."

William smiled at her. "I am certain lord Byron will ask you to help in his next play."

"But then I still have to wait a long time. First this one ought to be finished completely, then lord Byron must write a new play, and finally he has to find investors. That takes more than a year."

William gave her a mischievous smile. "A lot can happen in a year."

"Elizabeth," a woman named Emma called, "we are leaving for home. Are you coming too?"

She looked down at the dress in her hands, then shook her head. "I ought to finish this dress first."

"Alright," Emma said. "We'll see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes, of course," she said while nodding her head. With a smile, the woman left with all the other seamstresses. Elizabeth had not realized everyone was leaving, and now suddenly she and William were the only ones left.

"I shall stay with you until you are finished," William announced, and Elizabeth was quite happy with it. She did not want to be alone in the building. Every sound she would hear, would spook her. So with a smile, she thanked him, and then they talked while Elizabeth was working on the last stitches of the dress.

She realized that she enjoyed talking with William. Mayhap befriending him was not so bad after all. As long as his friendship would not prevent her from marrying another man when the time came, she did not see why she could not spend time with the lord.

When she was finished and she had stored the dress away safely, William took her hand and led her to the stage. The curtains had been closed, an indication that the working day was over. The stage was empty, and William guided her to the middle of it. Then he turned around and stood in front of her.

"What are we doing here?" she asked him.

He had a smile on his face as he answered: "remember you promised me you would rehearse ballroom dancing with me?"

She raised her eyebrows. "And you meant that? You truly believe you cannot dance a proper waltz anymore?"

He simply shrugged. "I do not know. But I would not want to find during the ball."

She laughed softly and shook her head. "I do not believe dancing would be something you can forget."

"So you do not want to rehearse with me anymore?" he asked, disappointment audible in his voice.

She looked at him and smiled. "I did not say that."