by Megan Chance
When rehearsal was over, I told Sebastian I was going to see Nathan at the mayor’s speech, and though he gave me this puzzled and rather amused look that I couldn’t quite understand, he shrugged and told me he’d see me at the tent later. I watched him leave and tried not to think of how much I wished I were going with him, and then I made my way to Front and Madison.
The crowd there wasn’t large; most everyone was actually working to rebuild their businesses instead of just talking about it, but it was enough of one that she would have time to escape if he decided to come after her. They’d put down a wooden pallet to stand on, and there were police at attention on either side and an American flag hanging from a pole above. The mayor was already speaking, Nathan and someone else I didn’t know were nodding somberly.
“… in tents,” the mayor was saying. “We will widen the streets and, at long last, rid ourselves of the deadly corner of Commercial and Front, that menace known as ‘the throat,’ where so many accidents have taken lives and property—”
I hung back in the shadow of a tent, where I could see but not be seen, and looked around, wondering where she was. The mayor kept speaking, now about the charity ball planned to raise money for the dispossessed, and Nathan kept nodding, the sun glancing off his fair hair. Every now and then, he looked out at the crowd. “Come on,” I murmured to myself. “Come on, Mrs. Langley—”
And then I saw her. Moving quickly, her too-long, bustleless skirt swishing about her legs and dragging on the dust. She glanced around—looking for me, no doubt, but at this point I didn’t dare try to catch her attention. Instead I watched Nathan, waiting for him to spot her, my heart pounding hard. I saw her move to the back of the crowd, and she was looking at him too, waiting, and his gaze cast out, roving, roving, and then.…
He went so still it was as if someone had turned him to stone.
It was a moment, maybe two. I could see his shock from where I stood. He mouthed something—her name, I thought. Get out of there now. Now. Go now, and she didn’t go. She didn’t go, and Nathan looked away to say something to that man who stood beside him, and it was all I could do to keep from screaming at her to get out of there.
Then, as if she read my mind, she turned, lifting her skirts, hurrying away, past a semi-erected tent, and then she was gone, and I raced forward to take her place at the edge of the crowd, looking up to see the man Nathan had spoken to glancing through the crowd. I saw when he noted me, when he whispered something back to Nathan, who frowned in confusion, shaking his head.
“—and soon, Seattle will be not just the city she was, but our queen city, the jewel of the Northwest, and of our soon-to-be state of Washington!”
The crowd erupted in applause. Nathan’s gaze riveted to me. I gave him a stupid little wave.
The mayor stepped down. The crowd began to disperse. Now it was time to play my part. I stood there waiting, because, you know, I couldn’t just walk up to him there. But he didn’t come to me. Instead he stepped up to the mayor, speaking intently and quickly, and the mayor frowned and motioned for the police. When they approached, he spoke to them as well, and two of them fanned out. Searching for her, I knew, and I hoped she’d got a good distance away.
Nathan came off the makeshift stage, pushing his way through the dwindling crowd until he got to me. “How long have you been here?”
“It’s wonderful to see you as well,” I said.
His frown grew deeper. “How long?”
“A few moments. I only heard the end of his speech. Very well done.”
“Did you see her? Did you see Ginny?”
“Your wife? You mean you found her?”
“No. But I thought I saw her. Standing just where you are. A few moments ago.”
“Are you quite certain?”
“I know my own wife,” he snapped, but he looked disturbed. “You didn’t see her?”
“No one’s seen her,” I said softly. “There’s not even the rumor of it. It’s been four days, Nathan. Perhaps you might want to consider that she might … that she must have been caught in the fire.”
He was hardly listening. He looked beyond me. “I saw her. I know I did. She was as real as you are standing there now.”
I put my hand on his arm and made my voice as soothing as I could. “Perhaps you did see her. But perhaps she wasn’t …”
His gaze riveted to mine. “Wasn’t what?”
“Alive,” I said.
He looked taken aback. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I shrugged. “We do a lot of plays with ghosts in them. You know, Hamlet. Or even Penelope Justis. The dead are always coming back to haunt the living.”
“This is not a play,” he said.
“Of course not.”
“Are you telling me that you think I saw a ghost?”
“I don’t know. I’m only saying it might be a possibility.”
He laughed. “You can’t possibly believe that.”
“I don’t discount it. I know a great many spiritualists.”
“Oh for God’s sake. Mumbo jumbo stupidity.”
“Of course you’re right.” I stepped away. “I’m sorry I mentioned it. No doubt you saw her, and she’s running around the city like a madwoman.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“It’s only that it seems strange that no one else has seen her, and I’ve heard no rumors of anyone suffering amnesia.”
Nathan sighed and put his hand to his eyes. “Dear God. I know it’s … Everyone seems to agree that she must be dead. Perhaps I was … imagining things.”
I nodded, trying to keep from smiling. “I suggest you go home and lie down. Take a headache powder. It must be very stressful, all these meetings.”
“Yes,” he said. “I think you’re right. I should lie down.”
“Well … I should be going. Rehearsals, you know.”
Nathan looked up. “So late?”
“Lucius is a slave driver.” I turned to go. “Good night.”
He grabbed my arm, stopping me. “You’ll be at the ball?”
I nodded. “Mr. DeWitt is writing the tableau even as we speak. I think you’ll be happy with it.”
“You’ll stay with me after,” he said, and it was no question, which irritated me, you know, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that.
“All right,” I said.
His finger traced softly up the inside of my arm, and his eyes grew warm with that ardor I’d come to dread. “I’m sorry to neglect you. I’ve been very busy.”
“Of course,” I said, drawing gently away. “You’ve a city to rebuild.”
“Yes. And … Ginny’s absence has things quite … chaotic. Her father is beside himself and—” He shook his head a little, as if to clear his thoughts, or as if he only just realized that it was inappropriate to talk of his wife’s father with his mistress.
“Mr. Langley!” one of the police officers called.
Nathan glanced over his shoulder and then back to me. “I must go.” And then he was off, and I was glad.
I hurried away before he could think better of it and call me back, hoping that the things I’d said to him sank into him tonight when he was lying in his cold bed in the dark, with nothing to think about but his wife and what he’d been willing to do to her, and I let myself smile at last.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Geneva
She came to my tent that evening, bearing another packet of bread, which I ate just as rapidly as always—I had never been so hungry; my stomach seemed to rumble constantly.
“I can’t stay long.” She glanced over her shoulder at the closed tent flap. “I don’t want him to grow suspicious.”
“Where does he think you’ve gone?”
“To the privy.”
“Then we must be quick,” I agreed. “How did it go with Nathan today?”
“You got away all right? The police never saw you?”
“What police?”
She s
miled. “The ones the mayor sent after you.”
I didn’t understand her smile; the idea filled me with dread. “He did? What if they come here? What if they—”
“They won’t. They’ve already been here, remember? And no one believes Nathan saw you. They think it was me.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw their faces. And the police—well, that was halfhearted at best. Nathan said himself that everyone believes you’re dead.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. How quickly they’d all come to that conclusion. But then, how little they’d cared for me. What a relief it must be to them all, to have me gone. “Well, that makes it easier then, doesn’t it?”
“To convince him you’re a ghost? Oh yes. He doesn’t believe it yet, but he will, I promise it.”
“How confident you are.”
“Mrs. Langley, there was a reason Nathan had me act out madness in front of a doctor in a restaurant.”
“Of course there was. To commit me.”
She shook her head. “Because he knew I could be convincing.”
I sighed. “I will say that you were the one I remembered from Black Jack. I’d thought then that you had the most talent of all of them. I couldn’t even tell you who played the heroine.”
She laughed shortly. “Stella Bernardi. Treacherous as a snake, by the way. We were friends once, until she stole the leading line from me. She didn’t have much talent, but she was very good at finding rich patrons.”
“It seems to be epidemic among your kind,” I said drily.
“It wasn’t what I wanted.” Her voice was quiet. “But when Stella … well, it was the last straw. I had to do something.”
“Why?”
“I’m nearly twenty-nine, Mrs. Langley. That’s old for an actress, especially one who hasn’t yet won the lead. I couldn’t wait much longer. When Stella stole it … let’s just say I had to take desperate measures.”
“Then how providential that Nathan and I came to see Black Jack that night.”
I had spoken sarcastically, but she sighed. “Yes. Though I wish you hadn’t.”
That surprised me. And puzzled me. “It turned out for the best, didn’t it?”
She met my gaze. “It was the first time I’d done it. Taken a patron, I mean. I don’t mean to sound self-righteous, because I played the same tricks everyone else did—except that one. I guess … there was a part of me that wanted my talent to be what mattered.” She laughed a little, shaking her head. “And now I’ll always be like Stella, won’t I? People will always be able to say I won the line because of Nathan Langley and not because of my acting.”
“I would never have supposed you so … idealistic.”
Another sigh. “It’s stupid, I know. Believe me, it’s not something I’m proud of.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid at all.”
“You don’t?”
“No,” I said. “In fact, I think it rather wonderful.”
She laughed. “You and Bastian … how the hell do the two of you survive in the world? You’re like little lambs just asking to be slaughtered.”
“I prefer to think that God smiles upon us instead. The meek shall inherit the earth, after all.”
She snorted, not unpleasantly, and rose. “I suppose. I’d best get back. We’ll talk about the ball tomorrow, when I bring you food.”
I made a face. “I’d say I was tired of bread, but I’m too hungry to disdain it.”
“I know. If I had any money, or there was any food to buy—”
“It’s easy enough to bear when there’s an end in sight,” I said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Most things are.”
Beatrice
The night before the ball, I told Sebastian I was going to the privy and I went to Mrs. Langley’s tent to bring her food and to go over our plan one last time. I had it as memorized as Penelope Justis’s soliloquy, where the words intruded even in my dreams. But I was anxious all the same. There were too many things I couldn’t control. A hundred things could go wrong, and I’d had enough performances where flies dropped from the heavens without warning and traps opened up beneath an unsuspecting foot to believe something wouldn’t.
She was to meet me at the Wilcox house that night, and in the meantime she was on her own. I wouldn’t have time to talk to her before, or to bring her any food—and that was something that was going to have to be solved and soon, because she’d eaten nothing but bread for four days and not much of that either. I had rehearsal for Much Ado in the morning, and then the tableau to rehearse after, and then the ball itself, so I was just going to have to trust that Mrs. Langley would do what she was supposed to do.
The next morning, I gathered up the butterfly silk gown I meant to wear at the ball, and Sebastian glanced at me as he put on his shirt and said, “No one will steal it. You can keep it under the crate.”
“I’ll need it.” I motioned to the scorched and filthy calico I was heartily sick of. “I can hardly wear this to a party, now can I?”
“I thought Greene meant to wrap you all in bunting.”
“I think he means for us to mingle beforehand.”
He made a noncommittal sound and buttoned his shirt. “Are you certain you feel up to this?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugged. “I thought perhaps you were ill. You’ve been a long time at the privy lately.”
I didn’t miss his quick glance, the question in it, how it slid away. Last night, especially, I had been gone a long time, but when I’d come back to the tent, he’d been half-asleep, and I thought he hadn’t noticed. When I’d crawled into the bedroll beside him, he’d wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close against his chest, kissing my temple before he fell back to sleep, and I’d felt … safe, I suppose it was. Foolish, and don’t think I didn’t know it. I was beginning to have this sense that if I didn’t get myself under control soon, I would end up doing something damned stupid because of him.
And now, on top of everything else, my fear that Sebastian would prove a problem when it came to my plans with Mrs. Langley was proving out. He was so damned observant. “There was a line last night.”
“So late?”
“Yes, so late. Really, Bastian, what else could have delayed me?”
He met my gaze, considering, a little too thoughtful. “Nothing, I suppose.”
I stepped up to him, running my finger down his shirtfront, meaning to distract him. “Nothing.”
He caught my finger and kissed it. “You’ll come back here when it’s over? Or should I meet you there?”
Sebastian would not be going to the ball. He’d written the tableau, but he wasn’t one of the players, after all. “There’s no need to meet me there. Don’t wait up.”
“Ah yes. I suppose there’s Langley to consider, isn’t there?” He made a face and sighed. “I suppose it’s a good opportunity to get some writing done.”
I hated how disconcerting it was that he never did what I expected. I hated that I half wanted him to be jealous. But I was damned if I would show him that. “Good. I’m afire to know what happens next.”
“I tremble at the thought of disappointing you.” He dropped my hand and pulled me close, kissing my cheekbone, my jaw, tangling his hand in my hair, which still hung loose, as I hadn’t yet found hairpins.
I put my hand to his chest, gently pushing him away. “If you don’t stop, we’ll be late for rehearsal.”
“Does it matter?”
“I can’t afford the forfeit, especially now. And Lucius has never forgiven one in his life. Except for Mrs. Langley’s, of course.”
“How bitter you still sound.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because she’s gone, perhaps? She can’t take anything from you now, Bea. Why begrudge her the past?”
How quickly he leaped to her defense. It made me think of the way she talked about him, her possessiveness even as she forced herself to admit his admiration for
me, and the way I understood why he’d liked her, which was more than I could say for why he liked me. I couldn’t keep myself from saying, “Of course. Take her side as you always do.”
“She’s dead, Bea.”
“But you would give your entire fortune to see her alive again. Isn’t that what you said? What good friends you must have been.”
“I enjoyed talking with her.”
“Just talking? Or did you end up fucking her after all?”
He made a sound of exasperation. “No, I didn’t fuck her. She didn’t need a lover, she needed a friend.”
I felt chastised and foolish, but I didn’t take it back. “So if she had needed a lover, you would have obliged?”
He only smiled. “Is that jealousy I hear? Shall I throw you to the bedroll and show you just how little you have to fear?”
“I can hardly be jealous of a dead woman,” I said, marching toward the tent flaps. “We’d best be going.”
Sebastian sighed, but he followed me. “If we must.”
The ballroom at the Wilcox home was on the top, T-shaped floor, at the end of a long hall that held rooms for changing, just as Mrs. Langley had predicted. Once we all arrived, Susan and Mrs. Chace and I went into one while Brody and Jack and Aloysius went into the other. Ours was small, with dormer windows that looked south over the city—a perfect view of the burned district and its crumbling walls of brick. I’d changed into Mrs. Langley’s silk gown before we arrived, though I’d needed Susan to help me pin it in spots to make it fit, and since my only bustle had burned in the fire, there was all this fabric pooling in a train and dragging so the pins that held up the bodice bit into my shoulder. The moment I could find a needle and thread, I would be altering the gown; at the moment it was the most uncomfortable one I’d ever worn, though lovely. I didn’t mean to wear it for the tableau, but I needed Nathan to see me in it before, which was not going to be that difficult, because Lucius had informed us that we were to circulate among the guests and make ourselves suitably charming. Just now, I guess, we were the only luminaries in town but for the Sells Brothers Circus, which had been scheduled to perform before the fire, but the mayor had refused them a permit and the city council was arguing about whether or not a circus was appropriate in light of the destruction, and no one would invite a clown or a trapeze artist to a drawing room ball in any case, so we were all there was.