Page 139 of Specters & Spotlights

She couldn’t see him anymore, and that should have terrified her. Later, it probably would. But right now, she just held on to the sound of his voice like a hand in the dark.

He was still here.

For now.

She folded the letter, hands moving with careful grace. Darcy’s song reached its crescendo, and her next cue crept, one breath away.

Her back straightened. Her fingers stilled. She lifted her gaze toward the stage lights—toward the audience she could not see but somehow had to hold in the palm of her hand.

If they all left before the finale, everything they had planned would fall apart.

Graham’s final notes echoed through the theatre and dissolved.

The lights began to dim.

Panic clawed up her throat.

For one awful second, she had no idea where to go.

“Left! Stage left!” Kevin’s voice snapped in her ear, all crisp and urgent now. “Go!”

Of course.

Elise exhaled, gave the smallest instinctive nod toward the empty air beside her, and hurried toward her next entrance.

Devon and Avery, as Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, greeted her with practiced familiarity, guiding her with ease that the Pemberley estate might truly have sprawled before them on stage. Their song opened gently, a warm welcome to the beauty around them. Elise followed their lead.

The ensemble joined them, transforming the stage into a dreamy tour of Darcy’s estate. Bodies moved around her in graceful patterns she only half remembered, and every time she hesitated, someone was there—a hand angled the right way, a glance held half a beat too long, a shoulder turning to create space for her.

She had a few sung lines in this piece. Nothing too taxing, thank goodness, but enough to remind her that she had not warmed up properly and would be writing a formal apology to her vocal cords if she survived the evening.

Still, the blended ensemble number helped her find her footing.

It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

Her breath steadied. Her shoulders dropped. She could feel her pulse again—not racing, just alive.

She was here. She was doing this.

When the Gardiners exited, Devon squeezed her hand in silent encouragement before vanishing into the wings.

And then it was just her.

Alone.

Her first solo moment onstage.

The music began soft and searching. Changed. Elizabeth’s turning point.

The lights settled on her alone, and time narrowed to the space between her breath and the first note.

This, she realized, she could do.

She opened her mouth and sang.

Her voice rose into the rafters.

Not perfect. Not polished in the way Lark’s would have been. But honest. Lived-in. Bright at the edges and raw underneath.