Not daring to look, Silas gripped the spiralling bannister with one hand and James with the other. His pulse was slowing, the bile in his throat had receded, and his legs remembered what they were meant to do. The lower they descended, the more his confidence returned. Their passage to safety was celebrated, it seemed, by the house as a standing ovation ensued and they arrived at stage level in time to see Signora Campanelli join Mr Roxton on the apron, the cast behind them.
Roxton bowed low, took his co-star’s hand, and they stepped forward, the curtains swinging into place behind them.
Jake bounded up.
‘Is he alright?’
‘Yes, mate,’ James said. ‘Just need to get out of here.’
‘There’s a nasty mess in the engine room,’ the runner enthused. ‘Some posh bird’s gone and thrown herself…’
‘I heard,’ James said. ‘How strange.’
‘Thanks.’
‘What’s that, Mr Silas?’
His feet were on solid ground, and he let go of James. He was able to stand unaided, and after a deep breath, was able to walk.
‘I said thanks, Jake,’ he repeated. ‘Did you get in trouble?’
‘Not yet, Sir, but it’ll come.’ He addressed James. ‘Wait over there, I’ll fetch your uniform. Watch out…’
Jake yanked him to one side as a stream of chorus filed from the stage. They were a good cover. Without them, Silas would have been spotted by the stage manager, currently tearing his hair out over the way the act had finished. The fewer people who saw them, the better. They headed for the auditorium door, straightening their clothes and brushing off the dust. A minute later, Jake arrived with James’ uniform.
‘Look, Jake,’ Silas said, wrapping the lad beneath his arm. ‘You know where I live, yeah?’
‘Clearwater House?’
‘That’s it. If you get any trouble, you come and tell me.’
‘It’ll be alright.’
‘No, you promise. You can’t lose your job because of me.’
‘Alright, Sir. I will.’
‘And say nothing to no-one about this?’
‘Well, that’s going to be difficult.’
‘Sorry,’ James butted in. ‘I need to need to get back to Mr Marks.’ He had changed frockcoats and handed Jake the costume.
‘Yeah, coming, Jimmy.’ Silas turned Jake to face him. His likeness to Silas’ sisters was uncanny, and he had an instant desire to help the lad just as he longed to help the twins. ‘You don’t know anything, right? Any trouble, find me. Whatever happens, the least you say the better.’
Jake tapped the side of his nose. ‘I won’t be able to answer any questions, Mr Silas,’ he said. ‘Saw a lot, saw nothing, you get me? The flymen might wonder what you were doing, but we’ve got a strike and set tonight, and they’ll be busy with “Otello” until sunrise. That dead body’s going to keep people guessing though, probably forever.’
Silas didn’t want to think about it. The closer they came to the auditorium the more he had to pull himself together. He longed to be out of this place and with Archer. He kept telling himself, ‘Tomorrow morning,’ as he pictured sunlight on his lover’s sleepy eyes, waking up in a world where his secret, his charity and his friends were safe.
‘Thanks again,’ he said. ‘We’ve got it from here.’
‘Right you are, mate.’ Jake beamed at him, but winced when he heard his name being shouted. ‘Better make myself scarce.’ He slipped away.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ James asked, his hand on the door.
James had risked his life the same as Silas, and without his bravery, Silas would be puffing smoke ten feet below the stage. Yet, he was only concerned for Silas, and despite the angry welt on his face, he now showed no signs of shock. Silas touched the bruise gently, holding James’ eyes and hoping that his own were shining with admiration. He pulled his head closer and kissed him on the forehead.
‘Thanks, Jimmy,’ he said. It was inadequate, but it was all he had at that moment.
‘That’s what Mr Payne would call inappropriate,’ James said, his eyes twinkling.
‘Yeah, well fuck the lot of them.’ Silas was back to his old self. ‘Come on.’
Applause was still clattering around the auditorium as they entered the box to find Marks standing, and his wife gradually coming to.
‘Ah, there you are Hawkins,’ Marks said as Silas joined him by the balustrade. ‘Wondered where you’d got to.’
‘I went to watch from up there,’ Silas said, waving his hand in the direction of the uppermost gallery.
Marks asked for no further explanation and continued applauding while Signora Campanelli collected roses, and Roxton stood rooted by disbelief. Across the theatre, His Majesty decided he had applauded long enough and sat sharply. The rest of his party followed suit, apart from Archer who continued to applaud until the stars had left the stage. He wasn’t applauding Roxton, he was looking directly at Silas. He might not be so jubilant when he discovered the truth.
The chair beside Markland remained empty, and the doctor kept looking at it as if Miss Arnold would somehow materialise. He glanced to Thomas a couple of times, and the butler checked the passage for him but returned a negative response each time. Markland was crestfallen and confused until he was joined by Mr Bursnall who whispered in his ear and led him away.
The royal party left the box with Archer accompanying His Majesty and Lady Marshall engaging his wife in a deep discussion about something, probably the spectacular finale, while in his own box, James assisted Mrs Marks with her stole.
‘Well, that’s that, lad,’ Marks said, surveying the departing audience. ‘What did you think?’
‘All very exciting, Mr Marks,’ Silas replied. ‘But to be honest, I’m not in a hurry to see it again.’
‘Ha!’ Marks huffed. ‘I know what you mean. All that screeching. By the by, Hawkins,’ he continued with one eye on his wife who had both of hers on the remaining Champagne. ‘Can you let me have a copy of that speech you made? I should run through it in case you said anything controversial.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Silas said. He couldn’t remember a word of it and hoped the solicitor would also soon forget. ‘Perhaps we should find His Lordship? There is a reception, I believe.’
James assisted Marks with his overcoat.
‘You banged your head, young man?’ Marks asked as he threaded his arms through the sleeves.
‘In the dark,’ Sir,’ James replied. ‘An unfortunate encounter with an unexpected obstacle.’
‘You should get Markland to look at it,’ the solicitor said, slapping his wife’s hand away from the wine bottles.
‘Shall I meet the King?’ she slurred.
‘I think not. James, tell His Lordship I’ll be in touch. Sorry to miss the reception but it’s probably safer for all…’
James understood and nodded sympathetically. Once the couple had left, he joined Silas at the balustrade, watching the public leave and squinting to the gallery. ‘What’s our story?’ he asked.
‘Been thinking about that,’ Silas replied. He saw Fecker and waved. ‘Best to tell Archer the truth. And Tommy. When we get home though, not here.’
A series of hand signals flashed from gallery to box and back as Fecker mimed driving the carriage, Silas made a circle in the air with a finger and held it up to indicate one hour, Fecker pointed to the front of the building, Silas held up a thumb, Fecker did the same and then mimed drinking. Again, Silas held up one finger. Fecker trudged up the steps to the back of the gallery where Lucy waited and tucked his arm through hers.
‘That’s sweet,’ James said.
‘Yeah,’ Silas agreed. ‘We should go. Not a word until we get home.’
They discussed their cover story as Ja
mes ensured no-one had left anything in the box, paying attention to how James might have received what was now turning into a raging black eye. His eyelid was swelling, and Silas wrapped the remaining ice in the serving towel, holding it against the footman’s face until James moved away complaining of the cold.
‘What on earth?’ Thomas appeared in the entrance. ‘What’s happened?’
The footman straightened his back and stood to attention. ‘Terribly sorry, Mr Payne,’ he said. ‘I stupidly walked into an open door.’
Displeased, Thomas looked to Silas for a more believable answer.
‘Tell you later, Tommy,’ he said. ‘Your clothes are over there. What do we do now? Is the King staying for the party?’
‘It’s a reception, and no, he’s not,’ Thomas said, as he changed out of his costume. ‘And James won’t be needed there.’
‘Yes, Mr Payne.’
‘Staff have use of the balcony bar. I suggest you wait there, use more ice and leave the alcohol alone.’
‘He’s not been drinking, Tommy,’ Silas said, mildly annoyed. ‘I can vouch for that, but I dare say we could both do with one.’
Thomas’ suspicion increased. ‘Are you going to tell me what was happening back there? I saw you in the wings on a couple of occasions.’
‘When we get home,’ Silas said. ‘For now, though, your man’s a hero.’
‘He’s a footman who left his post,’ Thomas snapped. ‘And in plain sight of His Majesty and the viscount.’
‘Oh, get over yourself,’ Silas tutted. Thomas was starting to anger him, and after what had just happened, if he didn’t soften, Silas could see himself saying something he would regret.
‘Mr Hawkins…’
‘Mr Payne!’ Silas stepped up to him. ‘Do you remember that night in Greychurch when Fecks and I pulled you and Tripp from the mob? Eh? You and I ended up rolling around on the carriage floor, you know, close and all. You were embarrassed ’cos your dick…’
‘You don’t need to remind me.’
‘Yeah, well I will. And I’ll embarrass you again if you don’t leave Jimmy alone. We’re going to tell you everything but not until we’re out of here. All you need to know for now is that your lover saved my life.’
‘Silas, don’t…’
‘You refer to him as Mr Hawkins.’ Thomas squared his shoulders, talking to James, but keeping his eyes on Silas. ‘And do not use that word in public.’
The auditorium was empty.
‘Let’s go and find Archer.’ Silas, on tip-toes, spat the words into Thomas’ face. ‘Who happens to be my lover.’
‘Mr Hawkins, I hardly need remind you…’
‘Tommy, you sound like Tripp. Lighten the attitude.’
‘His Lordship will be waiting.’ James was keen to separate them.
Thomas took a step back and looked from one to the other. ‘Where did you go?’ he demanded. ‘You were not in your box for the final scene.’
‘We were busy,’ Silas said.
‘Together?’
It suddenly struck Silas. Thomas was jealous. More than that, he was worried. Silas had felt the same thing at the dinner when Archer gushed over Roxton. Insecurity wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
‘Jimmy’s my mate, Tom,’ he sighed. ‘And he’s right. We should go, but I want to show you something first. Both of you.’
He was surprised how clearly his mind was working. Leaving the box, he made sure the passage was empty. It was, but voices spoke distantly, and he heard doors closing. He would have to be quick.
‘Here,’ he said, beckoning the pair to the backstage door.
‘We don’t have time for this,’ Thomas complained. ‘What?’
Silas drew the curtain and offered them the lobby.
‘I suggest you keep one hand on the handle in case,’ he said to James, winking. ‘I reckon Tommy needs to know where he stands, though I’ve got no fecking idea why he’s worried. Get in there.’ He bundled them into the cramped space. ‘Just kissing, Jimmy,’ he whispered. ‘And quick, before your face looks like a balloon.’
It felt like the right thing to do, to give the pair a moment alone and, once Thomas’ grunts of protest had mellowed into murmurs of reassured delight, he knew the matter was ended. James was an easy man to lust after, but there was more to him than handsome masculinity. He needed space to show his true colours, and Thomas needed to relax, get out of the butler-footman divide and appreciate his lover’s courage and sincerity. They were the heart of the man.
Life was too short for petty jealousies, Silas decided, although he couldn’t help feeling a little envious. It was a ridiculous thing to admit. He had no passionate feelings towards Thomas, despite his good looks and fine physical form, and he had no passionate feelings towards James either. Except, maybe, there was something…
He pulled himself up short. No, that was never going to happen.
‘Time’s up.’
Clearing his throat pointedly, he walked away, turning after a few paces when Thomas and James came out of hiding, James adjusting the front of his livery.
‘Do you get me, Mr Payne?’ Silas asked, deciding the proper address showed respect.
‘I do, Mr Hawkins,’ Thomas said. ‘And I think you’re completely mad.’
‘Yeah, maybe. But your Jimmy is completely…’ He mouthed the words, ‘in love with you’ but vocalised, ‘And don’t you forget it.’
‘I shall do my best, Sir,’ Thomas replied, with a smirk that might have been patronising, but was hopefully good humour.
They walked the corridor towards the grand stairs with Silas between them. He put an arm around each one for support and to show that he cared. He wasn’t offended when Thomas politely removed it and walked ahead.
‘Oh, Tommy,’ he laughed to himself and gripped James tighter.
‘Actually, Mr Payne is correct, Sir,’ James said, with an apologetic grimace.
Of course he was. Silas released him. He was being inappropriate. This wasn’t Archer’s study, and the sounds of clinking glasses and polite conversation were growing louder.
Thomas’ reluctance to show friendship so publicly turned out to be timely as they rounded the back of the auditorium and arrived at the landing. The foyer was crowded with lords and ladies, and glittering with diamond tiaras and chandeliers. Theatre staff mingled with trays of Champagne, the air hummed with congratulatory conversation, and in the middle stood Archer and Lady Marshall, accepting praise and looking more than satisfied.
‘The upstairs bar, James,’ Thomas whispered. ‘But return here in one hour. If I need you before, I will send for you.’
‘Enjoy it,’ Silas said. ‘You deserve it. And tell Fecks to keep his hands off the maid.’
James sniggered as he left them, and Thomas shot Silas a horrified stare.
‘You’re okay, Tommy,’ Silas grinned. ‘I know how to behave.’
‘Good.’ Thomas’ tone was flat. ‘Because we are here for His Lordship.’
‘I always am, Tom. I always will be.’
Silas took a deep breath, cleared his throat and straightened his jacket before descending the stairs. This was the game he had chosen to play, and he relished every chance to practice. Adopting a refined gait and a pleasant smile, he approached the viscount. Archer stood proudly amid the sea of faces, unaffected by the undulating waves of fur and glitterati as his peers pressed him for a handshake. The titled toasted themselves for their daring generosity while servants stood in attendance, scrutinising their every move, prepared to do whatever was needed.
They weren’t Silas’ world; they couldn’t have been further from it, and he briefly debated if he should stand with the attendants, or with the upper class. He would rather have been in the bar with Fecks and Jimmy, but this was Archer’s time, and
His Lordship should have his secretary on hand.
Sensing his arrival, Archer turned, and Silas’ heart skipped when their eyes met. They were worlds apart and yet two halves of the same existence. They knew where they belonged.
‘Mr Hawkins!’ Archer exclaimed, as if he had forgotten Silas was in the theatre. ‘We have missed you.’
‘My apologies, My Lord, Your Ladyship,’ Silas bowed as he greeted them. ‘I was asked to assist with a technical matter. I am now all yours, Sir.’
‘And he couldn’t have asked for anyone better.’ Lady Marshall took his arm and whisked him away. When they were at a safe distance from the viscount, her grip tightened, and she lowered her voice. ‘What the hell was all that?’ she hissed, guiding him away from the reception to a quiet spot beside the staircase.
‘Your Ladyship?’
‘Oh, come along, Silas,’ she said, glancing over his head. ‘Something dreadful has happened to Miss Arnold. Doctor Markland is beside himself, and I am intrigued.’
‘What’s happened, Ma’am?’
‘I only know that Miss Arnold is no more,’ she replied, pinning him with her grey eyes as if he was a butterfly in a frame.
‘No more?’
‘A terrible accident, and one which I am presently keeping from Clearwater. Bursnall gave me the news as we attended His Majesty’s farewell. Having heard the details of Miss Arnold’s departure, we decided it was best not to worry Archer, but somehow I suspect you know something about the business.’
‘I don’t see why I should,’ Silas said. It was another lie. He had told enough of them that evening to last a lifetime. He had a lot of explaining to do, but not to Lady Marshall.
She smothered him with doubt before replacing it with adoration. Cupping his face in her hands, she said, ‘You are a cherub,’ which Silas thought was in bad taste considering where he had recently been. ‘I can see why my godson is smitten, but…’ She released him and once again checked they were alone. ‘He has never cared for anyone as he cares for you.’
Unspeakable Acts Page 28