I sank into my very best, thank you audience, curtsey, front foot fully turned out, left leg sliding back as I sank down graciously before bowing the torso forward. I thought about that Saxe-Altenburg bit. Did that make her some kind of relative to our Elisabeth Sofie? Was she here to check up on her? As I lifted my head up I caught a smile from Her Grace.
“Brillo?” she asked, pointing to the Ram’s head logo on the breast of my cardigan, a wide grin creasing her face.
As I rose to my feet I admitted that yes, it was indeed Brillo. The abbess nodded her head. “The princess, she is much enamoured with Brillo. She was very impressed by him.” She looked at the young woman talking to Countess Emelie. “Isn’t that right, Kunigunde? The princess really enjoyed her visit to see Brillo.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The young woman turned to face me, her face alight with remembered humor. “The princess is very impressed with the heroic Brillo. She has been buying anything associated with him she can find.”
Starting with Kunigunde, the abbess introduced me to the other visitors. “Frau Matowski, this young lady is Kunigunde Juliane of Anhalt-Dessau, she is here with her Tante Eleonore, the duchess of Saxe-Weimar to visit her cousin, Emelie.”
“That’s Mrs. Eleonore Dorothea Wettin, Dorothea. Remember, Wilhelm has surrendered the title so he could stand for the Commons.”
“Puh, rubbish. Just like a man, letting his duchy be slid out from under him. There is no need for you to forgo your title. You are not involving yourself in politics.”
The abbess turned to me and continued, “This is, as you just heard, Mrs. Eleonore Dorothea Wettin.” The abbess finished the introduction with a significant snort, indicating, I’m sure, her opinion of Wilhelm and his activities. As she passed from Mrs. Wettin, the abbess then introduced Madame Conspicuous Consumption. “And this is Sophia Hedwig of Brunswick-Wolfenbuttel, countess of Nassau-Diez. She is, as are the rest of us, visiting Grantville to see the sights, also to find out more about this ballet you are to put on for us.”
I curtsied for the last time, then looked at the visitors. They were all looking hopefully at the men and women at the other end of the practice room. Taking the subtle hint, I asked them to wait just a moment while I asked the dancers to start.
Once amongst the dancers I quickly told them who the visitors were, and that they wanted to see how the ballet was progressing. I directed the dancers to their starting places while Deanna got ready to start the CD player, then I returned to my guests. I arrived back beside Mary and the abbess to the sound of the first notes of the Waltz of the Flowers. My guests watched in silence, their eyes not leaving the dancers for the whole seven-minute performance.
As the last notes died, I started forward to talk to the dancers. There were a few things I had noticed that needed work and I had forgotten about my guests. Seeing that the dance was over they started to applaud. The girls fortunately knew how to respond. They turned to face their audience and sank into deep, thank you audience curtsies. The men, all of them down-timers, seemed to have adopted the ballet style, and just bowed their heads, keeping an arm out to support their partner.
I hung back with Mary as the down-time ladies surged forward to talk to the dancers. I was feeling a bit smug. Not only had the dance gone well, but the look on the faces of the male dancers filled me with hope. This evening was becoming a very good retention tool. Dance with the Grantville Ballet Company and meet important people. There were going to be a few families who were going to be really impressed by the names that their men folk dropped when they got home. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to replace any of this group of down-time dancers. It had been a bit of a pain over the months with the level of turnover I had been suffering among the male dancers. I just about turned around and hugged Mary there and then.
Eventually the ladies returned. They had other places to go. Other places to be. As I walked them to the door Mary asked if I had recordings of any of the company’s performances they could borrow. “Especially anything concerning Brillo,” commented a smiling Kunigunde. “The princess has been told that she can see Bad, Bad Brillo and the continuing adventures of Brillo on ‘video.’”
“Yes,” said Mary, “Mrs. Richards said you had copies of all your performances. If we could borrow them for the princess, especially any of the Brillo performances, you would have our hearty thanks.” That last was greeted by sounds of agreement from the ladies. Apparently this princess of theirs really liked Brillo. Well, Flo would be happy about that.
As I shut the door on my departing guests a thought struck me. Princess? What princess? I called out to the dancers, asking if any of them knew who the princess was. There were some stunned looks shot my way. “The princess Kristina Vasa,” the men chorused.
At my bewildered look they tried again. “King Gustavus Adolphus’ daughter and heir,” a couple of the men said. I started nodding my head at that. I knew who Gustavus Adolphus was, of course. I’d even seen him when he passed through Grantville last year. It was nice to know his last name, though.
* * *
“Elisabeth Matowski to see the princess. I come bearing gifts.” I repeated to the strange woman who answered the door. The first time had been for the large down-timer that I assumed was a servant or something. I showed the contents of my basket to her. She touched the boxed videos.
“You are the maitresse de ballet?” At my nod she continued, pointing to the videos. “These are the ‘videos’ of the Brillo ballets?” Again I nodded. She burst into a smile, her face lighting up. Reaching out she guided me in. “The princess, she will be very happy to see you. Please, I am Lady Ulrike, come in, come in, follow me.”
After shooing off the servant, Lady Ulrike led me to a large room set up as a television room. Elisabeth Sofie and her cousin Countess Emelie were already seated there chatting with a much younger girl. They all turned round when Lady Ulrike knocked on the open door. All three jumped to their feet. Elisabeth Sofie and Countess Emelie smiled at me and all three dipped their heads in token bows.
The little girl looked at me. Elisabeth Sofie whispered something in her ear. She tilted her head to one side as she continued to look at me with a growing smile lighting up her face. Lady Ulrike started the introductions “Your Highness, Elizabeth Matowski, the maitresse de ballet. Frau Elizabeth, Her Highness, Princess Kristina. Kristina, Frau Matowski has brought you some ‘videos.’ What do you say?”
The princess gave me a sweet curtsey before approaching. She was wearing one of Flo’s finest quality sweaters. It was one of the special Brillo pattern range, with the horned head of Brillo blazoned prominently across the front. There were also other signs of the Brillo merchandising machine in the house, the ceramic cup, the branded back pack, the branded cap.
There were even some of the new ceramic figurines being produced by Melba Sue Freeman and her collection of artists. Not just Brillo, but also some of the new range of ballet dancers. I smiled at that. There was a good chance the school might be getting yet another student, or at least a new patron.
“They are Brillo videos? Oh, thank you, Frau Matowski!” It was all she could do not to clap her hands in joy, she seemed so happy.
“Here you are, Your Highness. Please be careful with them. They are the only copies I have.” Kristina was too polite to actually snatch the basket from my hands, but it was a close run thing.
“Would you like some refreshments, Frau Matowski?” She was totally the graceful hostess, but I was pretty sure that she would prefer I didn’t accept the invitation. There was no sign of impatience or anything, but the message was clearly there. She had her videos and now she wanted to watch them.
“Thank you for the offer, Highness, but I have to get back to work. Perhaps after you have seen the performances we can get together and talk about them.” She smiled, her arms wrapped around the basket of videos. Then with a small curtsey she returned to Elisabeth Sofie and Countess Emelie. I waved to them as I turned and followed Lady Ulrike.
“She really should have followed you to the door. What are manners coming to?” I turned my head to look at Lady Ulrike. She was slowly shaking her head at the lack of manners being displayed by her charge. “Thank you, Frau Matowski, for bringing the videos. The princess will take good care of them. Both Duchess Elisabeth Sofie and Countess Emelie know how to use the ‘video player’ so that should present no problems.”
Just as we made the door I could hear clearly the opening notes of the William Tell Overture. I turned to Lady Ulrike and took her hand in mine and gripped it lightly. “I hope you do not come to hate me for bringing the videos. I think you are going to get very tired of that piece of music.” With a shake of her head and a smile, she waved me on my way.
* * *
I bumped into Mary Simpson and her loyal lieutenants a few times over the next few days. They dropped into rehearsals to keep me up to date on progress, and what a lot of progress there was. Mary’s Mafia, as I had come to think of her gang of loyal lieutenants, had gone though town like a miniature tornado. A bank account was arranged so I could pay expenses and wages. Cloth was arriving for costumes. Artisans were building props and back drops. Even the programs had been sent off to the printer. They were going to print color pictures of the dancers in the program, at least for the first night and collectors program. There was some serious money being spent on this first season of ballet.
As far as I was concerned, the most important thing Mary achieved was getting the high school auditorium for five days around the New Year, Wednesday through to Sunday night. Hopefully this would give us sufficient time to set up scenery and lights, and run a couple of dress and lighting rehearsals. I was thankful for her intervention. There was no way I could have persuaded the powers that be to give me full access to the auditorium for that period of time. Not with the demand for the facility being what it was.
* * *
The dancers moved into the auditorium on Wednesday, straight after morning training. Crews under the control of Mary’s lieutenants had been moving the scenery and backdrops into place before we arrived. While the technicians set up the props and scenery according to my plans, I chased up the lighting technicians, hoping to get the lights set up quickly so we could have a lighting rehearsal.
Meg and Deanna Matowski, a couple of my cousins by marriage, led the ballet mothers as they checked out the changing facilities. Their reports weren’t promising. When we had used the auditorium for the Gala night we never had more than a dozen performers on stage at a time, and most hadn’t needed to change costume. Suddenly we had over forty performers trying to change, fix make-up, or stay warm and limber in an area not designed for that number of performers. It was going to be a madhouse.
“Bitty, there’s no way my Glenna Sue is getting changed in those rooms. The only separation between the boys and girls is a few blankets hung over a wire. It’s not good enough. I demand that my daughter be given a proper changing room,” came a voice from behind me. It wasn’t actually bellowing, but it was close. That could only be the Ballet Mother from Hell, Laurie Haggerty. I turned around. Right the first time.
“Laurie, there are NO changing rooms. There is that tiny Green room, or the showers. Otherwise the only other space is the couple of classrooms we have managed to grab. Believe me, I would love to be able to give your Glenna Sue a proper place to change and put on makeup. But we have to go with what we have.”
“Well, can’t you at least have the boys in one room and the girls in the other?”
“Sorry Laurie, but it’s easier if rooms are allocated by role, the Mice in one room, the Soldiers in the other. Party guests in one room, Land of the Sweets dancers in the other. Otherwise we’d never keep track of the performers.”
“Well, it’s not good enough!” Having had the last word, Laurie went off in a huff.
She was right. It wasn’t good enough. However, it was the best we had. If someone ever built a proper theater for the performing arts it would be nice if they could actually build one that catered to the needs of the performer. Maybe, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
I’d danced in too many less than ideal facilities in the past to think catering for the performers actually rated as important to the designers and people funding them. The problem was all those special features performers would love to have are hidden from the audience. Out of sight, out of mind.
The punters like to see what they are getting for their money. So what if there is only one shower for all of the performers, and it runs out of hot water too quickly. The audience doesn’t care.
* * *
Thursday morning the sun still hadn’t shown itself as I made my way to the high school auditorium. We were about to have some real fun, a morning of general rehearsals on the stage, followed in the afternoon by a full dress rehearsal before visiting officials and media.
I just love performing to the powers that be and the media. They sit just there. You know you have to put on a good performance, but there is no feedback. Politicians and critics, as a rule, make a lousy audience, hardly raising a cheer or applauding. If they weren’t so important to the continued well being of the company I would have banned them. However, Mary Simpson had arranged for them to attend. So attend they would.
To make best use of our limited time the company worked out in one of the classrooms that had been set up with temporary barres while various scenes were practiced on the stage. People were coming and going between the changing rooms as costumes were checked out, and students practiced quick changes of costume. Those playing soldiers would be worst. At least the mice didn’t need a lot of makeup.
We had to run through the scenes several times before the lighting technicians learnt what and when to illuminate. The pas de deux between my two pairings of leads were real fun. I had let Carl talk me into trying to recreate the scene from the Covent Garden version of Nutcracker where Nureyev, as the prince, first appears just after the fight with the Mouse King. It looked like it might work. First Cathy McNally as Clara was lit, then Joseph as the Nutcracker, standing in the back corner of the stage, arms raised as the spotlight is suddenly turned on.
It took three tries, but eventually the lighting technician worked out where to point the spotlight. It lacked a little of the dramatic impact of the original, but then, Joseph was no Nureyev. Other than that, it was mainly a matter of getting the technicians used to tracking the performers. They just weren’t used to tracking people moving with the speed of my dancers, but by carefully making notes of where the performer should be at what point in the music they finally started to keep the spotlight on the soloists.