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The sugar lump dropped into the cup with a ‘plunk’. A second one followed almost immediately after before a tea spoon dove into the china cup and rattled around, mixing it into the tea.

“So you think she’d be good enough to try out for one of the lead roles to Shakespeare?” The man said as he reclined slightly in his chair, his long legs sticking out on the other side of the table as he sipped the cup to his lips, his little finger delicately sticking out to the side and wiggling slightly as he took a proper drink.

Smith lifted the cup up to his lips and took a gentle sip before helping himself to one of the English scones he had set out on a small rotating cake tray, he applied some thick clotted cream before nodding. His clothing was different, he wasn’t in his usual robes, but had instead opted for a crisp, loose and slightly baggy shirt and trousers that made him seem much more casual and even barely recognizable. There was however the large cross hanging from around his neck. He took a deep breath, savouring the smell of the blossom of the orange and apple trees in the orchard.

“Yes Tim, I think she has quite a bit of locked away talent. I was substituting for yet another one of their classes. The teachers are completely feckless and lazy, the moment they get a sneeze or minor head complaint they take a raft of days off at a time…”

“Carl.” Timothy De Montfort said with a raised eyebrow. “You’re ranting again.” he helped himself to a scone also.

“Sorry, yes anyway. I had two girls up to play Romeo and Juliet, Romeo was terrible. But this other girl, Belle, was very good towards the end, like suddenly God blessed her with a lot of talent!”

“I see, and you wanted to see if she’d be suitable in a big end performance like at the Apollo?”

“I think it’d give her a big boost, she’s so… timid.”

“That is a big problem, timidity, Carl.” Timothy said as he took another bite and swallowed, followed by another sip of tea. “After all, a timid voice refuses to carry, no matter what trickery we try in the theatre.”

“Well, hopefully she’ll turn up soon. I know Charles, my house keeper will send her this way…” he sighed and looked back towards the vicarage itself, a small well appointed house near the centre of the city and just a stone’s throw from the park it was perfect for his needs. It was also fairly easy to find.

They walked along the street with their arms linked until Belle swung around and started heading in the opposite direction. “I can't do this...” she said, and Vincenti grabbed her by the waist.

“Yes you can,” he said back. “Just think of me when your speaking, like I'm right across from you in the room.” She turned back towards him and looked up to him. “Do you want me to carry you there?” he joked, and led her along until they had reached their destination. He bent down and kissed her forehead. She pulled back at him. He was a truly beautiful; his skin was flawless, and his gray eyes sparkled with the slightest bit of light. She ran her fingertips through his hair and kissed him unexpectedly on the lips. The kiss was short lived, but the effect was not lost. “I'll wait for you outside...” he said, and took up residence across the street on a bench. He watched her as she knocked.

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Belle Anastacia Shardakov[Noir] http://roleplayerguild.com/f9/the-wh...-tragedy-7704/
"You speak from a true heart with voice pierces the soul through cloth and flesh.
No experience can match that passion."

A tall thin man with a long, pointed nose answered the door, he looked Belle up and down before sucking his teeth. He cleared his throat then spoke in an eerie, lilting voice that seemed to echo behind him into the house.

"Miss Anastascia?" he questioned, when the girl nodded he pointed to a gate next to the vicarage. "The Reverend and his guest are out in the orchard taking some afternoon tea, they are expecting you."

When she reached the back of the orchard, which had a small lawn in the middle of it with a set of white table and chairs. Smith merely inclined his head as she approached.

"Ah, Belle, glad you could join us." he said simply before motioning to the thin, tall man next to her, who stood up and bowed slightly. "This is Timothy DeMontfort. Owner of the new Apollo Theatre down on the corner of 12th and 23rd Street.

"A pleasure to meet you. Carl, err, I mean Reverend Smith was telling me about your performance yesterday in the classroom and thinks you might have something of a hidden away talent." He chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "Even though I don't determine casting I do determine who gets into the try-outs. As I am going to open Romeo and Juliet soon, I need a cast. He's convinced that you're very good but, alas, I cannot take that purely on faith."

Smith shot Timothy a look that could kill at the mention of being able to take things purely on faith, especially considering his job.

Tim picked up a book from the table and held it open at a random page. "Here," he said handing the book to Belle. "Lets see how you do."

Belle looked down at the page as the two men waited for her to begin. She had often wondered why Vincenti chose her over the other women; why he came to her that night rather than one of the others. Perhaps it was, she realized now, this deep passion which she lived life and with which she loved. It would bring down the stone walls of any city and spark war across the Atlantic. Through the tragedy she had experienced in her life; the pain and sorrow, and the loss of her parents, she had locked that love of life away. That was until she had met Vincenti, and things began to change. It was as if he had known all along what she had to offer without the slightest indication of such a thing. Even in her mind as she scanned the text, she could hear his voice in her head, and feel the brush of his lips against his hair.

She took a breath before she began to read with the same passion she had within the boundaries of the park. It was not difficult for her to react without a person across from her to give the responses, for she already had the responses within her mind. She had already heard the response, and already felt the way his words made her feel.

“If they do see thee, they will murder thee.”

“I would not for the world they saw thee here.”

“By whose direction found'st thou out this place?”

“Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'
And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.”

Belle turned her eyes up from the page and looked at them, her heart beating rapidly, the ghost of Vincenti’s voice ringing in her mind. She absentmindedly touched the pendent around her neck that he had given her. He was right, too. This opportunity could open a world of possibilities for her. Perhaps he wanted her to be able to keep her own simply so she would finally accept more from him if she had the ability to give back. Money was no object to him, but to her it meant her freedom, and ability to express just how deeply she felt. There was no doubt, that she would give it all away, but having it, or being able to make one’s own, made all the difference.

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Belle Anastacia Shardakov[Noir] http://roleplayerguild.com/f9/the-wh...-tragedy-7704/
"You speak from a true heart with voice pierces the soul through cloth and flesh.
No experience can match that passion."

Timothy remained silent for a few moments before he started to clap his hands slowly, steadily. Then Carl joined in the small applause also and then he took the book back off of her. “Very good Miss Anastasia.”
He pursed his lips. “Very good indeed.” he pondered for a moment, pawing the book and nodding.

“Yes, very good.” He chewed on his lip for a moment before nodding, as if making a decision. “How would you feel about being the understudy for Arlene Houston?” He shrugged. “She’s looking for an understudy to pass her… knowledge onto, and I think you’d be just perfect for her, you’re quite talented Belle.”

Carl looked across to Anastasia and then to Timothy, as if in mild surprise. “Well well.” he said with a slight smile. “Somebody seems to have been blessed, don’t you think?”

Belle didn’t take well to being someone else’s pet. She did, however welcome the opportunity and nodded in agreement. It was a start, at least. She then looked at Carl. “We are both blessed and cursed, Reverend, each in our own ways.” She nodded in respect. She believed that there were two gods; one good and one evil. There was no other way to explain the terrible things which happened in the world like the loss of her parents. Original sin could not be the cause simply because she was too young and too innocent to deserve such a thing. One cannot put the sins of the parents onto the unknowing child and call that just. Life was more like a balance of good and evil rather than a war between the two. There is give and take. It seemed that her life was at a turning point for the better, while not the best.

She headed back through the orchard and towards the exit where Vincenti waited across the street for her. She smiled at him, and he got up from the bench and crossed the street to her, taking his arm as he escorted her back down the street towards her home. “How’d it go?” he questioned.

“It went well. He offered me understudy to the main Juliet. Even though auditions haven’t been run yet it seemed that auditions have been run by other means,” she said with a sigh, but still was quite satisfied. “At least I can learn from her and I won’t be thrown into this head first. It will give me time to get acclimated to the theater.”

“You mean her husband is donating a lot of money for her to play the lead…”

“Oh, no I didn’t mean that. Perhaps she is just very good.”

“No, Belle…don’t try to cover it up. That little bit of spice in your voice is quite out of character for you, and was quite enjoyable.” He smiled and she blushed. She had a habit of doing so. “I think that you will learn nothing from her other than stage make up. You speak from a true heart, and that voice pierces the souls through cloth and flesh. No experience can ever take that away.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll take you home. It’s getting late.”

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Belle Anastacia Shardakov[Noir] http://roleplayerguild.com/f9/the-wh...-tragedy-7704/
"You speak from a true heart with voice pierces the soul through cloth and flesh.
No experience can match that passion."

Carl pushed the thin glasses back up his nose as he watched the two leave. His lips and nose twitched slightly before he looked to his housekeeper. “What did you think?” he asked quietly.

“The young man is a vampire. But not, perhaps, one who’s heart is so black as to be a cause for concern for the city.”

“I see.” Carl said quietly. “Well. Keep an eye on the young Romeo then, Tybalt I will do the same for Juliet.” Carl said with a slight twitch of a smile.

“Of course, Lord Capulet.” the housekeeper with his oddly echoing voice replied with a hissing chuckle.

“Well Carl, I’d better be going. If you do come across any more acting talent let me know, get ‘em while they’re young, you know.” Timothy said as he appeared and grabbed his hat and coat as a coach drew up outside.

“Of course Tim.” Carl replied with a bow. “I take it I shall see you on Sunday for the sermon?”

“Oh definitely. What will the service be this week?”

“Hmm? Oh, I’ll leave that as a surprise.” Carl replied with a slight smile and a nod before he excused himself and went into his drawing room.

“Mmm, oh well. Timothy said quietly with a shrug before opening the door to the Vicarage and left.

6 months later

“I'm coming,” she called down from the staircase and bolted down the stairs wearing a new blue dress and the necklace he had given her half a year ago. She greeted Vincenti at the door and they headed off down the street. “Oh it's so nerve racking even though I'm not performing. It's opening next Friday---”

“Did you get me a ticket?” he inquired, and she slipped a piece of paper into his hand as a response. He smiled and put it into his pocket. It had become some what of a ritual; she would get up in the morning, go to school, walk home, and put her bags down. About a half an hour to finish school work and Vincenti would be waiting outside towards the late afternoon. They would walk either to the park or he would escort her to rehearsal and wait for her to finish. Maryanne had come to accept that fact that nothing was going to change Belle's mind, and had gotten used to the fact that Belle was often seen with Vincenti, now that Maryanne herself had someone of her own.

The experience with Arlene Houston was less than exhilarating. She didn't show up for every rehearsal, which left Belle filling in for her blocking, and her catching Miss Houston up on what she missed. The woman had to be at least thirty five. Belle had taken an extreme disliking to the way she presented Juliet, the way she presented herself, and Miss Houston in general. She had learned absolutely nothing in her time there, except her lines. Belle had made a few friends, and she didn't offend anyone as Arlene did. Belle wondered where the actress got such audacity from when she really wasn't that capable at all. Just the same, she bit her tongue and went along with it. As far as school was concerned, she was doing well. The work never seemed to challenge her, unlike Maryanne who was constantly falling behind.

Belle Anastacia watched the leaves fall from the trees as she breathed in the crisp fall air. “It's really lovely,” she remarked, and glanced up at Vincenti who was also consumed by the scenery. They reached the park and she sat down on the bench as Vincenti stood in front of her. He had been serving as her private tutor for Shakespeare, and acting. Her presence never changed, but she began to pay closer and closer attention to details and not just her emotions. Luckily, he had a good deal of patience to deal with getting the little things perfect. She, herself, however, was a natural. After an hour of speech practice, he took her hand and helped her up.

“What's this?” she asked as he placed one hand on her hip and clasped the other within his.

“You signed up for the competition, remember?” he laughed as she started to follow his leave.

“I completely forgot about that...” she remarked.

“No, you just planned on not going.” He smiled, and she blushed.

“Maybe...”

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Belle Anastacia Shardakov[Noir] http://roleplayerguild.com/f9/the-wh...-tragedy-7704/
"You speak from a true heart with voice pierces the soul through cloth and flesh.
No experience can match that passion."

The “Next” Friday. Opening Night.

The bell to the door rang several times, urgent rings which rattled their way through the house. When Belle eventually got to the door and opened it, she found herself looking upon a very out of breath . He straightened up and straightened the small cap he wore when she finally answered the door.

“Miss Shardakov?” he said between gasps of breath which fogged slightly in the cool morning air. He handed her a slip of paper, which, when opened revealed a note written inside.


Miss Shardakov,

A terrible misfortune had befallen Madame Houston. Her husband was tragically found dead at the bottom of his stairs at their home on the outskirts of the city. It was an accident as Mr Houston had taken a shower moments before and slipped on the wet floor, falling down the stairs and tragically breaking his neck.

Mdme Houston is beside herself with grief and will now be unable to play the lead role in the play tonight.

However, as the saying goes the show must go on and I ask you Miss Anastasia to take on the role as Madame Houston‘s understudy you know all of the lines and the necessary actions and movements to make during the play.

I will wait outside by the actors entrance at 5 O’Clock sharp for you to arrive and will have you fitted for the dress, we will have to make do with what we had made for Madame Houston, and simply bring it in slightly for your thinner frame. But this doesn’t matter, so long as the show goes on!

Monsieur Du Brek, Le Directeur Apollo Theatre.

With that the messenger gave a slight bow. “Shall I run a message back to Mr Du Brek at the Apollo? He paid me to run a message back also, should it be required..”

Just when she was about to lose her mind she suddenly looked at the man who had delivered the note. She had forgotten he was even there. She had become lost in her own world with the problem of now having to perform in front of a full house on opening night.

“Uh,” she said a bit flustered. “No...no it's fine.” She looked out the window as a carriage pulled up and the driver leaped down and headed to the door. It was Vincenti's driver, but alas no Vincenti.

She headed out the door, ushering the messenger out as well before locking the door. The driver helped her into the carriage. She called out from inside. “You're welcome to join me. It will be a lot easier than running back."

“Thank you, Miss Shardakov.” The messenger said. “It would be most welcome, it’s quite a distance from the corner of 12th and 23rd.” He clambered inside after her, placing his hat onto his lap and taking another breath before smiling. “It’s also very cold.”

"That it is," she said, and wrapped her plain shawl a bit tighter around the shoulders. She watched the scenery pass by as they travelled. The conversation was nothing of interest. Belle's nerves were getting to her.

The coach made it’s way rather hastily to the Apollo theatre, pulling up near to a short, fat figure who was running back and forth animatedly, arms waving and shouting at everyone who vaguely had anything to do with the theatre, and snapping into a very calm and gentleman like approach to anybody not.

“Will you move that bloody thing inside quickly and set it up on the stage you lazy fat useless.” he then bowed slightly and stepped out of the way of a well dressed woman who carried some bags came past. “Pardon Madame.”

“You, you! Dancing girls! Inside and get ready for rehersal in five minutes or I’ll- Belle!” he said suddenly turning from the ballet dancers to the woman in the carriage. “Thank GOD you’re here Madame, eet is a disasteur of grande proportions! Poor Claude dead from a terrible accident! Oh le horreur!”

Belle shrugged, "That's really unfortunate..." she trailed off. She then realized she had become a bit numbed to death after she was forced to deal with her own tragedy at a young age alone.

“Ah, but of course, such stoic actresses such as yourself know the show must perform, non?” he dabbed at his eyes with a small kerchief before barking at a worker who had dropped a bust. “You thundering lummox! You will have that out of your wages I will be sure of it! Get the fucking thing inside now!” He then turned to Belle and smiled. “Pardon my francais.” he chuckled. “Now, seeing as you’re early, tres early we shall go inside now and sort out the dress, non?”

"Oh, uh...sure," Belle said and watched the business of it all. She had never been in a performance before, and therefore didn't consider herself a 'stoic actress' but she knew to keep the profits they still had to deliver a somewhat enjoyable show. Without which, things could be disasterous. "Where exactly do I go?"

“Through the entrance those lummoxes are going in and out of,” he suddenly shouted. “Breaking things!” He then turned back to her, his voice snapping back to normal. “Third door on the right, into Miss Houstons room, it will already have your name on it. B.A Shardakov in a star, we move so rapidly, non? Inside you should see Miss Kasha. She‘s a wizard with a needle.”

"Wonderful," Belle said with wide eyes and went out on her way, searching for this mysterious dressing room. She hadn't been planning to need to dress up at all. Once she found the dressing room, she slipped timidly inside (for it seemed so wrong entering someone else's space), where she was greeted with a frantic, smiling, red-headed girl who immediately took it upon her self to start removing her clothes.