Eva Ibbotson - A Company of Swans

‘I want her to have a choice. She’s eighteen, Dubrov, and I don’t want her to come to me because there’s nowhere else for her to go. However, I’m sure we can manage — only if her father gives orders to have her repatriated could there be trouble, and I cannot see why he should do that. Above all, he seems anxious to avoid a scandal and if he starts involving the law he can hardly do that. As a matter of fact, I have an idea which might serve. If Madame Simonova would cooperate…?’

He outlined his plan to Dubrov, who burst out laughing. ‘Well, nothing can be lost by trying it. Will you speak to Harriet? She is very upset.’

‘Yes, I will speak to Harriet.’

She came already dressed for her part in Fille , wearing a white dirndl with a laced bodice, a blue apron and a blue kerchief round her neck.

‘You look charming. That blue is a perfect foil for your eyes.’

She tried to smile, but her face was wretchedly anxious.

‘Is he… does he know I’m here?’

‘Not yet, but he will do very soon because I am about to tell him!’

‘Oh no! Oh please, please, no!’ She put a hand entreatingly on his arm. ‘I know it can’t go on for ever… being happy… but just a little longer!’

‘Harriet, you cannot hide night and day for as long as he chooses to pursue you. He seems to be a very persistent and obstinate young man. I think it would be much better if, so to speak, we turned the tables on him.’

‘How? I don’t understand. How could we do that?’

‘Leave it to me. And have courage, my silly little swan. You’re so intrepid, paddling about among the pirhanas, yet you let an oaf like that frighten you.’

‘It’s not just him; it’s my father. I’m under age, you see, and if he chose—’

‘But he won’t choose; we’ll see to that. You will go back to England at the appointed time and with your head held high — if that is what you wish. You might even get your father’s blessing on your career as a dancer.’

‘No… never! You don’t know what he’s like.’ She tried to smile. ‘I must go. Will you be watching? No, of course, you saw the première .’

‘All the same, I’ll be there, holding my breath while you thread the ribbons like everybody else.’ He lifted a corner of the kerchief. ‘You should wear blue,’ he said. And, breaking his rule, ‘You shall wear blue,’ he said — and left her.

Edward was in the bar drinking with Harry Parker and a few of the regulars, when a servant came with a message to say that Mr Verney would be pleased if Dr Finch-Dutton would join him in his box at the theatre at eight o’clock.

‘I say,’ said Harry Parker, ‘that’s a real honour. Verney nearly always watches alone.’

‘Yes, but I didn’t bring my tails,’ said Edward, fingering his black tie anxiously.

‘If you’re with Verney you could go in plus-fours,’ said Harry Parker. ‘There’s nothing you can’t carry off when you’re with him.’

Edward had seen the Opera House during his fruitless search for a hotel, but the sheer opulence of the foyer and the clothes and jewels of the patrons here in this place amazed him.

‘Ah, there you are!’ Rom detached himself from a group of friends and came forward. ‘Look, we only have a few moments. Better come up to my box, where we can talk quietly.’ And as they went, he continued, ‘Your girl is here. She’s known as Natasha Alexandrovna, but there is no doubt she is the girl you’re looking for; I’ve checked with Dubrov. Only you must be very careful: your coming here could make things extremely awkward for her.’

‘For her?’ said Edward, dumbfounded, and stumbled on a marble step.

‘Naturally, for her. One hint that she is being pursued by a man and her position in the Company might be seriously jeopardised. Followers are strictly forbidden and Madame Simonova is an absolute stickler.’

‘But I’m not pursuing her! I’m trying to save her!’ cried Edward.

‘Better not put it like that to the Company. Or to anyone in the audience. I’m afraid Professor Morton is under a misapprehension regarding—’ He broke off. ‘Ah, here come the Sternovs!’ and he led Edward towards his friends. ‘Allow me to introduce Dr Finch-Dutton, just out from England. Count and Countess Sternov and the Countess Sophie.’

By the time they were seated in Verney’s box, Edward’s head was spinning. The Countess had taken him aside to confide that her sixteen-year-old daughter was ballet-mad and quite heartbroken because an inequality of the toes prevented her from being accepted by the Dubrov Company. A young Englishwoman, Mrs Bennett, had congratulated him on being allowed to see these dedicated and unapproachable dancers perform. Was it possible that the Professor really was mistaken about the status of ballet girls in polite society, thought Edward, unaware that Rom’s friends would have done a great deal more for him than utter a few white lies.

But now the conductor entered, the house lights dimmed and all thoughts vanished from Edward’s mind except one. After the long, exhausting journey, the sorrow and wrath she had caused him, he was going to see Harriet again.

Or was he?

The curtain went up on a farmyard and a ballet of chickens of whom Harriet was not one… A funny lady who was really a man came and chided her daughter for dancing with a handsome farmer… It was all rather jolly and the tunes were nice.

And now a lot of village girls came on and danced with the heroine. Pretty girls in white dresses, each with a different-coloured apron and scarf around her throat.

‘Well, what do you think of your friend?’ whispered Rom. ‘They are very pleased with her work in the Company.’

Edward frowned with concentration. Harriet must be on stage then — and indeed there were so many village maidens that one of them was bound really to be her. He leaned forward, peering intently at the twisting, shifting patterns made by the girls with their twirling skirts. There was a thin girl with brown hair at the end on the right, but there was another one at the front and a third just vanishing behind a hay-cart.

‘It is a bit difficult to pick her out, actually. I’m not used to dancing,’ he said helplessly.

Rom shot him a look of contempt and handed him the opera glasses. But the glasses only made things worse. One got a head here and an arm there and then they were gone. Edward tracked now this girl, now that, before handing back the glasses with a disconsolate shake of the head.

‘She’s the one with the dark red kerchief,’ said Rom maliciously.

‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course! I see now,’ said Edward gratefully.

And for the rest of the evening, Rom had the satisfaction of seeing the moron who had professed an interest in Harriet devoutly pursuing Olga Narukov across the stage.

As Rom had expected, he experienced no difficulty in setting up the luncheon which was to put Edward in his place once and for all. In every ballerina there smoulders the conviction that she is also a great actress; Rom’s plan had only to be outlined and Simonova was already planning her costume and instructing her underlings, and by the time he returned to the theatre at noon with a case of Chateauneuf du Pape as a thank-offering, the transformation from glamorous ballerina to fierce duenna was already complete.

‘The girls know what they have to do,’ she said, ‘and everything is ready. My clothes are good, you think?’

‘Indeed I do.’ Simonova wore black to the throat; a black hat with a veil shielded her face and a jet-handled parasol lay on the chair. He bent for a moment over her hand. ‘I am truly grateful, Madame. Not everyone would go to such trouble for a girl in the corps.’