Elizabeth had been very excited to work at the theatre, but her first day had been horrible. Not only because she had seen and talked to William, but also because she was aware the same thing might happen again. She did not hate him, not truly, and that was the problem. She should not give in to him, for he might break her just as easily as he had before.

She had seen in his eyes that he had not changed a lot, but she had. He had even said it, and he made it clear he did not know what she was thinking. Yet if frightened her that he had not want to leave her, for she had a hard time walking away from him. She wanted him close – she always had – but she knew she should not. She had made a mistake he could not forgive, and he walked away which she could not forgive. And they should not forgive, for that might lead them right back into the spiral of disaster. She was not ready to give him her all, for she knew he was not ready to give her his all.

It had been a week since she had seen him, yet her fear of seeing him again had not yet left. She knew he was there most days, for she had listened to the ladies talking. They all said how handsome and kind he was, and how he was genuinely interested in them, rather than in the actors. That was amazing indeed, if not for the risk that he might come near her again. Every day she moved from her spot as little as possible so that she had less chance of seeing him.

But mayhap she should not let her life be led by him. Mayhap she should not try to avoid him, but merely tell him she did not want to see him when he came to her. She was strong enough to do that, yes? She was not pathetically in love and unable to tell him no. She could make him leave and tell him to stay away from her – if he even was in the building today.

With that positive mindset, she decided not to go home with the rest of the ladies, but to watch the dance rehearsals of the actors on stage. She had always loved dancing – any dance was amazing. But dancing in a play, dancing with a story, was her favourite to watch. And certainly a play by lord Byron must have an amazing choreography.

She entered the room where the stage was the centre of everyone's attention. The curtains were closed so that it looked more like an actual performance. Lord Byron was visible in one of the front rows, as well as the main choreographer. She noticed multiple people were sitting on the theatre seats, but she could not make out any faces. Deciding it was better not to interrupt the rehearsal by looking for some friends, she sat down on the first chair she could make out and watched the stage.

Five dancer were on it, listening to the instruction of the main dancer. He was pointing with his arms from one side of the stage to the other while the dancers were nodding. Then the choreographer clapped in his hands and everyone went to their place on the side of the stage. Dark music started playing and four of the dancers stepped into the light, their arms moving elegantly alongside their bodies.

The main dancer came up from behind them, splitting the four dancers into two group where they danced with their partner while the middle one showed how sad and hurt he was. Elizabeth realized this was the part where the wife in the story had left the man for another man, leaving the husband all alone in his house named Pondside.

"This is my favourite part," a voice whispered behind her. She did not have to turn around to see who it was, for she would recognize the voice any day.

She sighed, but did not react, hoping William would not say anything more, but of course, she was wrong.

"Now he is going to make a jump. Look, is it not amazing?"

She turned her head to look at him and harshly whispered: "It would be more amazing if you would keep your mouth shut."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You seem quite angry."

"You irritate me."

"Why?"

"Why not?" She turned her head back around, hoping he would take the hint and stop talking, but he seemed to see it as a challenge. He jumped over the seat next to Elizabeth and sat down on it. For a while he stayed quiet and she got to watch the dance rehearsal, but it did not take long.

"You are angry with me," he simply said, "and I understand it. But do you not think you were to blame as well?"

"You want to talk about this now?" She kept her eyes on the stage, refusing to meet his gaze, but she was not really looking at the dancers. No, she was trying to appear calm and controlled.

"There will never be a good time, if that is what you are waiting for."

"I was waiting for you," she suddenly said before she realized she was saying it. "But you never came."

"You cannot blame me for not believing you," William said. He tried to sound understanding, but Elizabeth did not bother to care about it. He had hurt her. He had left. And even when he had learned the truth, he had not returned.

Angrily, she turned to him and faced him. "My father was dying! You think I would lie about it? You knew he was sick, you knew the moment was near."

"I saw you capable of making up that lie," he said calmly.

"I used to lie about small things, I admit. But I would never lie about the death of my father!" She looked at him, calm and composed like she usually was. For once, the roles were reversed. "But if that is what you believe, then I shall leave you with those believes."

She stood up and turned to walk away and go home, but he said: "you do know I shall never be able to trust you."

With a wicked smile she turned to him. "I do not bother about that. You will never matter to me. But I have learned my lesson, if you were wondering."

Without saying another word or giving him the chance to do so, she turned back around and left the theatre.