Page 11 of The Red Slippers

She pushed away from the building and looked at him as if he said the maddest thing.

“The corps de ballet?”

“To become a principal dancer takes years but with my help, it wouldn’t take you long. Not after tonight. Madame Camargo already spoke with Claude and me.”

“Do you think I could? On my merit?” She looked away. “No, people would say the position wasn’t rightfully won. They’d point to my lack of training and our closeness.”

“Solely on your merit. I may be an excellent artistic director, but I wouldn’t risk my reputation or that of the company elevating someone to a position they didn’t deserve.”

He was serious and for a moment she found herself at a loss what to say.

“Don’t say anything now. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

The reality of what he proposed began to sink in. Her dream was within reach. Dancing and being near him didn’t have to end.

“It’s late. I must go.” A quick kiss and she opened the door.

“Tomorrow. Come to my office.”

Another kiss on his lips and a final wave. He turned and was gone.

The music still played in her head as she quietly navigated the stairs and opened the door to her parents’ apartment. The candle still burned on the table.

“Did the evening go well?” her father asked from across the room.

“The evening was wonderful.” Twirling, she danced and put the rose in a glass on the table next to the candle. “The queen toasted us with champagne. Madame Camargo spoke to me and gave me this flower from her bouquet. It was a dream come true.”

“I’m glad you danced and enjoyed the triumph of the evening. And I’m glad this dancing,” he waved his hands above his head, “is out of your system. We have things to discuss.” He crossed the room and sat at the table.

“Not tonight. Let her enjoy the evening.” Her mother stood behind her father, her face tired and sad.

“The girl said all went well. Besides, discussing this in the morning won’t be any easier.” He turned toward her. “I’m glad you were a success. I had no doubt you would do well. But it’s over and now you need to face the truth. You’re not a little girl. You need to settle down and marry.”

Marry?The idea sobered her at once.

“I spoke with the butler. His son—”

“Marcel? Why would you speak to his father? I have no interest in his son.” She had known Marcel since she was a child. They spoke to each other, but she wasn’t impressed. Besides, he had no ambition.

“You may not be interested in him, but he is interested in you.”

A glance at her mother proved disappointing. Her attention was on cleaning the crumbs off the table. She’d get no support from her.

“Listen to me.” Her father stood, shaking his finger. “You want to dance. You think being a ballet dancer is a glamorous life? You’d be at the mercy of the dance company. What will happen when they find another dancer, one better than you? I’ll tell you what will happen. Let you go, that’s what will happen. What will you be left with? Dreams and nothing else.”

“Like your position here? What if the butler decides—”

He turned away from her.

“Is that why you want me to marry Marcel? To ensure you keep your position?”

“Not at all.” Her mother was quick to come to her father’s aid. “It’s your life we’re concerned about. A dancer’s career is short. What will you do when you can’t dance anymore?”

“I’ll teach. I’ll use my skills as a dressmaker and make costumes. There is a lot I can do.”

“And this man who walks you home, who is he? You’re drawn to him. I’m your mother. I see it in your eyes.”

Cosette didn’t say anything.

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